


Febuwhump 2021

by TeamImprov



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016) Whump, FebuWhump2021, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 35,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamImprov/pseuds/TeamImprov
Summary: A collection of one-shots for the Febuwhump2021 prompt challenge.
Comments: 293
Kudos: 141





	1. Mind Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 - Mind Control
> 
> Set after 5x05: Mac is kidnapped in the middle of the night and learns that the Kovacs mission was not as cut and dried as the team originally thought.
> 
> Characters: Mac, Jack, Kovacs  
> Tags: Mac Whump, Guilty Jack, Brainwashed Jack, Torture, Stabbing

Mac never saw it coming. 

He blames grief on how easy it was for them to capture him. Ever since Murdoc kidnapped him and he had to escape through the sewer tunnels, he’s been a lot more careful about who he answers the door for. 

They must have waited for him to be the only one home, a rare occurrence since the funeral, and they definitely didn’t use the doorbell. 

Mac didn’t see them coming until it was too late. 

One minute he’s checking the fridge for a midnight snack, the next there’s a bag over his head and a taser crackling between his shoulder blades. His muscles locked with the first shock from the taser which meant he didn’t have a chance to defend himself. 

It didn’t take long before the darkness that descended over his vision had nothing to do with the bag. 

When he woke up, Mac had no idea where he was. It looked like some kind of stone dungeon. The bag was not longer over his head but his hands were pulled tightly above him. The chains wrapping around his wrists forced him upright. His shoulders ached from his full weight having pulled down on them the entire time he was unconscious. His feet scrabbled on the ground, trying to take some of the pressure off his shoulders and lungs. 

His MIT t-shirt was gone but he was still in his pajama pants. He didn’t hurt anywhere but Mac’s heart thudded in his chest at the thought that nobody knew where he was. His team didn’t know where to find him. 

And Jack wasn’t coming to save him. 

The man who had been his best friend and protector for almost a decade was gone. He had died alone, just as they had always promised one another would never happen. You go kaboom, I go kaboom had been more than silly words to them - it was a promise. The promise that told them no matter what happened they would always be there for each other.

The Kovacs mission took that away from them. 

In the end, it took everything away. 

They left Mac alone for hours in the damp, cold cell. His feet were numb from the chill radiating off the stone floor. He couldn’t feel his hands anymore and he couldn’t stop shivering. There were no windows so there was no way he could tell how much time had actually passed. There was nothing he could use to get free so he waited.

And waited. 

And waited. 

Until he was sure his kidnappers were going to make him die of thirst. Maybe that would be better than whatever else they might have planned. Mac had experienced torture before - it came with the territory in his line of work - but that didn’t mean he wanted to go through it again. Every other time he had Jack to help him through it, or at least help him handle the aftermath. The idea of having to endure that kind of pain on his own made his eyes burn and he had to swallow hard against the fear rising up inside him. 

Instead, Mac closed his eyes, drifting off in his mind to happier memories. Every single one of them was about his team and their post-mission hang outs at his house - playing charades, truth or dare, or simply sitting in comfortable silence as the fire crackled and the LA skyline lit up the world around them. 

Heavy footsteps and deep voices wrenched him from the past. He blinked back into the present and held his breath as the footsteps got closer and closer. Mac could hear the jingle of keys in the lock before the barred door swung open. A heavily muscled man in a black t-shirt held the door open for an older man in a suit to walk inside. 

“You’ve done very well,” the older man said to someone still out in the hallway. “You’ve been very receptive to our ideology and have more than proven that you are willing to do what we ask of you. However, we’ve been watching your old life very carefully and have decided that you need to ace one more test before you can continue working with us.” 

Mac frowned at the words. He leaned as far forward as the chains would allow. There was another person standing in the doorway, their silhouette almost familiar, and Mac squinted to try to see who was there. 

The man in the hallway stepped into the room. His hair was cut short, a trim beard adorning the familiar face. 

“Jack,” Mac gasped, his breath all but punched out of his lungs at the sight of his best friend, his partner, his protector, still alive. 

There was no recognition in the older man’s eyes, though. It was like he was looking at a stranger and that’s how it felt to Mac as well. 

“Shut up,” Jack barked, taking two steps toward Mac and backhanding the blond across the face. Mac swung on his chains, the sting of the hit nothing compared to the sting in his chest at the anger in Jack’s eyes - the hatred. 

What had they done to him to make Jack, of all people, look at Mac that way? 

“You’d best do as he says, Mr. MacGyver.” The older, grey-haired man told Mac. “Jack Dalton here is our very best interrogator. He’s broken much stronger men than a scrawny little nothing like you.” 

Mac felt blood seeping out of the cut on his lip but ignored it. Instead, he watched Jack’s face. His expression never changed. 

“What level, Kovacs?” Jack asked. Mac felt the blood drain from his face.

“Ten.” The older man, Kovacs, said matter of factly. 

“Then you want him dead.” Jack glanced over his shoulder at the grey-haired man. His hands tightened into fists. 

“I want you to prove that you can go to ten.” Kovacs said. “And I needed to see if I scrambled that brain of yours enough. Do you recognize this man, Dalton?”

Mac watched in silent horror as Jack’s attention turned back on him. His eyes squinting, taking in Mac’s appearance, but no recognition showed in his eyes. 

“I’ve never seen him in my life.” Jack answered. 

“Well, let me introduce him to you.” Kovacs said, stepping up to Mac and grabbing a fist full of hair. Mac grunted as his head was pulled back, hard. “This is your old partner, Angus MacGyver.”

“Sounds like a burger at Carl’s Jr.” Jack said and Mac felt his heart twist at the memory of their real first meeting, when they hated each other so much. They went through hell together and the friendship that formed out of those experiences shaped every moment of their lives since that first day. For all of that to be gone now was too much. It was almost worse than when he found out Jack had died. But, Mac realized, the old Jack might actually be dead. Now, he was replaced with someone who shared his face but wasn’t the same man who loved his little found family more than life itself. 

“What did you do to him?” Mac seethed, directing the question up at Kovacs. If this man was Kovacs, then who was Vitez? They thought they solved Jack’s final mission. They thought they figured it out. Apparently, it was all just, what, a game? 

“Apparently, if you shock a person’s head enough times they begin to lose memories.” Kovacs said and Mac felt sick. “Once they’re a blank slate, all it takes is a little conditioning and they’ll do whatever you want them, too.” 

“When?” Mac’s eyes flicked from Kovacs to Jack. He could faintly make out the burn scars on his partners forehead now that he knew what to look for. 

“We captured him about eleven months ago.” Kovacs explained. “My men know what they’re doing and they had him working for me in no time.” 

“Vitez?” Mac grit his teeth as his hair was pulled harder. 

“That was all Dalton’s idea.” Mac’s eyes strayed back to Jack. He looked almost - proud. “He faked his own death, and set up Vitez as a decoy, in order to prove his loyalty to me. Now, you’re going to be his final test. He may not remember you but this will prove his allegiance without a doubt. If anything inside him still remembers you, this will prove that he really is with me and my organization.” 

“And then what?” Mac couldn’t help but ask. He needed to stall, to figure out a way to escape but in a way that he could bring Jack with him. Even if he was damaged, even if he didn’t remember them, they could help. He just needed to get him back to Phoenix. “You make him help you torture people, kill people? Then you make him set up terrorist attacks around the world? Jack would never do that.”

“Maybe your Jack wouldn’t, but you don’t know this one.” Kovacs smiled darkly and Mac swallowed hard again. “This Jack has done all of those things already and now he is going to kill you. The last face you are going to see is your best friend as he murders you. If your Jack ever resurfaces, he will be met with that truth, and then he won’t have anywhere else to go. I’d say that’s only fair for the man who tried to kill me.”

“My team,” Mac paused, finding Jack’s eyes and holding them, “Our team will find us. Riley will find us.” 

He knows it’s a gamble to use Riley’s name but she’s one of the strongest weapons he has in his arsenal. Even if Jack doesn’t remember him, there’s no way he’d forget Riley. 

“Nobody is coming for you.” Jack said and something about the way he said it told Mac that he really was on his own. He tried to put his emotions back into the box they lived in during his childhood after his parents left him - the part of himself that only came out again after he met Jack - the real him, imperfect and messy but him. He tried to think of any way he could get that version of Jack back, too - the real, imperfect, messy but theirs, Jack. 

“I think we’ve had enough chit chat, don’t you?” Kovacs asked, letting Mac go and retrieving a chair from the hallway. He positioned it in the corner in front of Mac - a perfect view for what’s to come - and sat down. 

Jack nodded, eyes darkening, and pulled a hunting knife from a sheath on his belt. He held the blade carefully, balancing the weight in his hands, before gripping the handle. 

“Jack, you don’t have to do this.” Mac said, eyeing the knife as Jack almost delicately placed it against his neck. “I know you're still in there, man. Remember Cairo?”

“I’ve never been to Cairo.” Jack slid the knife down to Mac’s shoulder and sliced a thin line across his collarbone. Mac bit the inside of his cheek to keep from flinching. 

“Yes, we have.” Mac insisted as Jack dug the knife in again and dragged another line under the first, deeper this time. “We don’t talk about Cairo, remember? We were trapped in a sarcophagus for six hours. They shot us and locked us in there to die. You made me stay awake and then Nikki found us.”

“Nikki betrayed us.” Jack whispered. “You were shot.” 

The knife made its way to the scar from the Lake Como bullet wound in Mac’s chest and he couldn’t help but flinch backwards as the sharp point of the blade bit into the center of the scar. 

“Yes, but that was later on, and she didn’t really. We thought she did but she was working with the CIA. You saved me in Lake Como, though. Just like you always do.” 

“You like to hear yourself talk, Carl’s Junior.” Jack dragged the knife across Mac’s chest, leaving a trail of blood, until he got to the opposite shoulder from the Lake Como scar. “I think it’s time for you to shut up.” 

Mac didn’t have time to brace himself as the knife was driven into his shoulder to the hilt. He cried out and watched in horror as Jack smiled. 

“This is Dalton’s specialty.” Kovacs said from the corner. “All his Delta training has come in handy. He knows exactly how to stab someone to cause maximum pain without actually killing them. That is, until he wants to.” 

“Jack, please.” Mac grit his teeth to keep from crying out again when Jack pulled the knife out of his shoulder. “Remember when Murdoc kidnapped me. We were fighting because you were trying to help me find my dad and I told you to leave me alone.”

The knife trailed down to his side. 

“No, Jack, remember.” Mac held his breath as the blade dug in. “I got away and we found out Murdoc was after the teacher.” 

“He’s got a gun.” Jack parroted back his words that day. Mac could almost hear the gunshots pinging off the walls around them as they ducked behind furniture. 

“Yes, he was an assassin and Murdoc wanted us to find him. He was forming a Collective.” 

“He shot you, too.” 

“No, Murdoc did. After the Collective handed Murdoc back to us and we were being chased by Helman. You wouldn’t let Murdoc near me when I was down. You saved me that day, too.” 

“None of that means anything to me.” As if to prove his point, Jack shoved the knife into Mac’s side. Mac nearly whited out as the blade disappeared into his side. He could already feel blood bubbling around the wound. 

“It has to,” Mac grunted. The knife was pulled from his side and driven in again, a few inches away. “Remember Riley. When she went on her first solo mission. You would have done anything to protect her.”

“Stop,” Jack whispered, backing away. Mac’s lungs hitched as the knife seemed to grind against a rib with every breath. “Every time we’re in trouble you always save us. That’s what you do...over and over again. You save us.” 

“I don’t know you,” Jack repeated, but his eyes betrayed his words as recognition blurred the line between the cold Jack stabbing him and his best friend. 

“Remember when we were in the high rise and it was just like Die Hard. We were so excited, and you spent the whole mission trying to make John McClane proud.”

“Finish him off, Dalton.” Kovacs said. “He talks too much. Maybe I should have chosen the girl.” 

“He means Riley,” Mac wavered, feeling lightheaded but trying to ignore the knife in his side. “He wants you to kill your family.”

“No, Kovacs saved me.” Jack insisted but Mac could see the cracks had started to form. The old Jack was still in there, enough to know what Mac was saying was the truth - even if he didn’t fully realize it yet. 

“He didn’t,” Mac said. “He hurt you. He made you forget your family and now he’s making you hurt people, even people you love. How is that saving you?” 

“Enough,” Kovacs was on his feet in a second. He went behind Mac and grabbed his hair again, pulling harder than the first time, and held his own knife to Mac’s throat. “Finish this, Dalton, or I will.” 

Jack’s eyes widened as the last pieces clicked into place. Mac saw the shift and moved his eyes down. Jack followed, tears filling his eyes as he took in the blood, the knife in Mac’s side. Mac closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable pain, and hoping Jack got the message. 

The knife was pulled from his body and Mac grunted, the blood rushing down his side in angry rivelets. The pain was like a beast inside him. Even with the knife gone it still felt like it was sawing into him. 

Mac opened one eye to find Jack staring at the bloody knife. 

“Do it now.” Kovacs demanded, the knife at Mac’s throat cutting in. Mac blinked frantically to get Jack’s attention. When the older man looked back at him he moved his eyes to the guard at the door. Jack glanced at Kovacs and then back at Mac, winking ever so slightly. 

In less than a second, Jack turned and threw the knife at the guard, catching him in the neck. Blood spurted from his severed jugular and he went down fast. Without missing a beat, Jack reached for Kovacs arm and twisted his wrist until it snapped. Mac felt the blade cut deeper into his neck right before Jack could disarm the terrorist. When he was released from the man’s hold, he fell forward, his arms catching his weight from the chains painfully. 

He tried to pay attention to the fight happening behind him. He couldn’t tell who was winning but then there was a loud crack of a neck snapping. Everything went silent. All Mac could hear was his own loud breathing. 

He felt hands touching him and then the chains were released. He fell forward, limp and bloody, before strong, familiar arms caught his weight before he could hit the ground. 

“Jack?” Mac asked shakily, feeling the adrenaline seeping from his body like the blood covering his torso. 

“I’m here, bud.” Jack’s heartbroken voice reached his ringing ears. “I’m gonna get you out of here. I’m so damn sorry, man.” 

“Not you,” Mac insisted, knowing if they got out of there it was going to be something he said a lot. “So glad...you’re alive.” 

“Yeah, well, I intend to keep you that way, too.” Mac felt hands pressed against the worst of the wounds and tried not to scream. He didn’t want Jack to feel more guilty than he already did. “Can you look at me, bud?” 

Mac forced his eyes open, afraid that if he did it wouldn’t be their Jack above him anymore but the other one. 

But Mac knew, as soon as he saw the expression on Jack’s face, that his partner really was back with him. 

“Welcome to the party, pal.” Mac whispered with a pained, relieved smile. The last thing he saw before the lights went out was the real Jack’s frantic expression as he lifted Mac from the cold, hard ground. 

At that point, Mac didn’t care what happened next, as long as they were both going home.

The End.


	2. I Can't Take This Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - I Can't Take This Anymore
> 
> Even though Mac escapes the mission unharmed, his body still turns on him anyway. 
> 
> Characters: Mac, Jack, Riley  
> Tags: Sick Mac, Worried Jack and Riley, Appendicitis, TW: Vomiting

The pain, like a fist in the middle of his gut, started a few days before the mission in Panama City. 

The adrenaline of trying to complete their objective while getting everyone out alive made it easy for Mac to ignore it. Every once in a while it felt like he had moved wrong but it definitely wasn’t the worst pain he’d felt before so he pretended like it wasn’t there. 

Luckily, they survived the gala, the extraction of the flashdrive from the safe, and the subsequent shootout that was still following them to exfil. They just had to keep that streak going until they were home free. 

Jack jumped into the driver’s seat as Riley and Mac tumbled into the back of the van. Bullets continued to ping off the door but Mac leaned out fast and shut the doors. As soon as they were closed, Jack took off, gravel skidding under their tires. Jack didn’t let up their speed but they all sighed heavily in relief when the gunshots faded away until they couldn’t hear them anymore. 

Riley crashed back heavily into the side of the van, the adrenaline fading fast, and all she could do was laugh. 

“That was close,” she said between giggles. Mac smiled, too, exhaustion hitting him like a wave. He felt like he could sleep for a week and it felt way too warm in the van. 

“You two okay back there?” Jack called back from the front seat. He kept turning his head to take in their appearances. Clearly he wouldn’t relax, even a little bit, until he knew his kids were safe. 

The two younger agents looked down at their own bodies, trying to catalogue any blood or pain they might have missed before. Now that the adrenaline was all but gone there was nothing but the ache deep in Mac’s side. There was no blood, no bullet holes, so he assumed he simply pulled a muscle. 

“I’m good,” Riley promised after giving herself a quick pat down. 

“Good to hear,” Jack said. “How about you, hoss?”

“I’m fine, too.” Mac told them. He could see Jack’s skeptical eyes in the rear mirror and threw arms up as if to prove that there really was no blood on him. The motion pulled on his side and he fought the urge to wince. “I promise, Jack.” 

“Good, I don’t need you two bleeding out back there.” Jack’s voice softened now that he knew they were okay. “It would really put a damper on the day, man.” 

“You okay?” Mac asked. Jack seemed fine but they were all experts at hiding pain. He could see a dark stain on his sleeve and crawled forward to get a better look. 

“Got winged a little.” Jack said when Mac brushed his fingers against the stain. There was a tear in Jack’s shirt over the outer side of his bicep. He pulled the fabric apart so he could get a better look at the wound. “Don't worry, hoss. It’s not bad.” 

“I know,” Mac agreed once he could see the cut. It was deep and would probably need a few stitches but it really was more of a glorified scratch. 

“Riles, could you grab the first aid kit for me?” Mac asked and Riley nodded. She pushed some of the equipment out of the way until she could get to the kit tucked in the corner of the van. She passed it up to Mac who laid it out on the ground beside him. 

“We can do this later, dude.” Jack grumbled, keeping one hand on the wheel and his eyes fixed to the road ahead. “It’s really not that bad.” 

“It’s still bleeding.” Mac pointed out. “Do you want one of us to drive?” 

“Yeah, Jack, I can switch with you.” Riley offered, hovering right behind Mac. 

Jack checked the time, “we’re only ten minutes out. If we stop now we’ll miss exfil. I’m good to go.” 

“Alright,” Mac picked up the bottle of hand sanitizer and squeezed some into his hands. He messaged it into his skin and hoped it was enough to keep the germs at bay. The last thing he wanted was to make Jack’s injury worse by treating him with dirty hands. When his hands were dry, he grabbed his water bottle and poured some onto the wound. Jack didn’t flinch but he did glance at his arm curiously. 

“This will have to do for now,” Mac said. He took the roll of gauze out of the kit and wrapped it securely around the wounded area. It wasn’t pretty but it was the best he could do from the back of a moving van. It would hold, at least. 

“Thanks, bud.” Jack moved his arm around and smiled. “Feels great.” 

“No problem.” Mac patted Jack’s shoulder before falling back against the wall of the van. As soon as he hit the ground, his side exploded in sharp pain again. He bit his lip to keep from crying out but he couldn’t sit up straight anymore. He swallowed against the wave of nausea that ran through him. All he wanted to do was go home, take a hot shower, and go to bed with an ice pack for the strained muscle. 

He felt that need to sleep beckon him more, and he tilted his head back, letting his eyes fall shut.

Riley was glad the only injury they received was Jack’s graze. It would have been better if they didn’t get hurt at all but if there had to be one that was the kind to get. Even though Mac wasn’t bleeding, he still didn’t look like he was feeling one hundred percent. He was pale except for slightly flushed cheeks. 

And he fell asleep so quickly after helping Jack. 

He was probably just tired but she watched him carefully on the ride to the airport. His arms were wrapped around himself tightly and he was hunching over a little, even in sleep. 

Riley didn’t realize they had made it to the jet before Jack brought them to a rolling stop. 

“He okay?” Jack asked, twisted in his seat so he could get a better look at them. 

“I think so,” was Riley’s honest answer. “Think he’s just tired.” 

“Yeah, well, we’ll still get him checked out when we get home.” Jack unclicked his seat belt and opened the driver’s door. Riley moved forward so she was kneeling in front of the blond. She reached over carefully, not wanting to startle him, and gently shook his shoulder. 

“Hey, Mac, we’re here.” She whispered. His head bobbed on his shoulders before falling to the side. His blue eyes snapped open and he gasped, hands clutching at his sides tighter. “Hey, you sure you’re alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Mac yawned, sitting up straighter and looking around. “We there?” 

“We’re there,” both agents jumped a little when Jack pulled open the back doors. 

“Let’s get this show on the road.” Jack smiled wide. 

They grabbed their gear from the van and made their way to the jet. As soon as their stuff was stowed and the flash drive was tucked away somewhere they wouldn’t lose it, the three agents found their usual seats and buckled in. As soon as they had taken off and the seatbelt sign was turned off, they found their stash of blankets and settled in for the ride back home. 

The whole time, Mac had to fight against the rising nausea. All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and fall asleep but every movement pulled painfully at his side. They were all tired and it didn’t take long before the cabin was full of soft snores. 

Mac closed his eyes, pulling the blanket under his chin to fight off the chill in the air, but sleep wouldn’t come. The pain was getting worse and worse, settling deep in his right side. He didn’t know how he was going to get through the seven hour flight if he couldn’t sleep through most of it.

He tried to ignore it as they got closer to Los Angeles. He finally felt himself drift off but was stuck in a strange limbo of exhaustion mixed with agony. 

It was official - he was going to have to tell Jack. 

He figured that could wait until they got back and let his brain doze. Even in his half-asleep state, Mac still slipped into horrible dreams of missions gone wrong, of Murdoc shoving a knife into his side, and groaned a little as the nausea kicked up a couple extra notches. 

His eyes flew open as his stomach twisted. 

Everything spun around him when he stood and he had to catch himself on the overhead compartments lining the upper walls of the cabin. One hand clasped over his mouth, he hurled himself into the small bathroom near the back. As soon as he got into the room, he closed the door behind him, and emptied what felt like a month’s worth of meals into the toilet. It seemed to go on forever, until there was nothing left to come up. Every round sent spikes through his right side. He tried to stay quiet so he wouldn’t wake up Jack and Riley but his body had taken over. When he was finally done, he wiped his mouth on a handful of toilet paper and flushed. 

There was a small knock on the door and Mac groaned, leaning against the wall. He felt limp and exhausted. His whole body sweaty, hot and cold at the same time. 

“One minute,” he called out weakly. 

“You okay in there, man?” Jack’s worried voice was muffled through the door. Mac pulled himself up and rinsed his mouth out in the sink. As soon as he opened the door he was met by Jack grabbing onto one of his arms as he wavered. 

“Woah, you look like crap, bud.” Jack pressed the back of his free hand against Mac’s forehead and whistled. “Burning up, too.” 

“I think I’m a little sick.” Mac admitted. There was no use lying now. There was absolutely no way he was hiding how bad he truly felt. 

“When did that start?” Jack asked. 

“It got worse once we got on the plane.” Mac didn’t want to admit that he had been feeling crappy for days, even before their mission, but he couldn’t outright lie to Jack, either. 

“Got worse,” Jack repeated slowly, watching Mac’s face like a hawk. “Which means you felt bad before?” 

“Yeah,” Mac wavered again and Jack helped him to the couch. As soon as he laid down, Riley draped his blanket over him. “But it wasn’t that bad. I was fine to do the mission.” 

“Sure, but it would have been helpful to know you were about to keel over.” Jack tutted, his helicopter parenting tendencies coming out full force. “What symptoms are you feeling, other than the nausea and fever?”

Before Mac could answer, the jet hit a patch of rough turbulence and Mac couldn’t help but let out a sound of pure suffering as they were all aggressively jostled. 

“Woah, okay, so pain for sure.” Jack answered for Mac. Mac slammed his eyes shut and curled onto his side, his arms guarding his abdomen. “Did you get hit by something on the mission? You bleeding internally right now?”

“No,” Mac groaned through clenched teeth. Before the pain had come in waves. It would get really bad but then it would calm down into more manageable levels. Now it was assaulting him with seemingly no end in sight. “Before.” 

“You were feeling it before the mission and you didn’t tell me?” Jack’s voice was incredulous, and he would certainly have a talk with the younger man when he wasn’t looking like he was dying, but in that moment he decided to give him a break. 

“Didn’t think,” Mac groaned again. “It was that bad.” 

“Well, clearly it is, bud.” Jack sat back, running his hand over his face. “It didn’t happen to start in the middle and then radiate to the right, did it?”

“Yeah,” Mac nodded tightly. “Appendicitis, right?”

“Well, I ain’t no doctor but yeah, it all checks out.” Jack checked his watch. They were about three hours away from LA. If Mac’s appendix was about to burst then they didn’t have that long. They were going to have to land at the first available city and get him to a hospital as fast as they could. 

Without consulting the sick kid on the couch, Jack jumped to his feet. 

“Watch him,” he whispered to Riley who nodded purposefully and kneeled down next to Mac. 

Jack made his way to the front of the plane and picked up the phone between the cabin and the cockpit. After two rings, their Phoenix co-pilot answered. 

“Everything okay back there?” The co-pilot asked. 

“No, we’ve got a medical emergency and need to land right now.”

“What is the nature of the emergency, Agent Dalton?” 

“Agent MacGyver’s appendix is about to burst.” Jack could feel his grip tightening on the phone as his worry increased and forced himself to release his hold a little. “He needs a hospital, like yesterday.” 

“Understood,” The co-pilot told him after a moment. “We will be landing at Albuquerque International Sunport in fifteen minutes.”

“Copy that,” Jack said before hanging up and making his way back to Mac’s side. 

“We’ll be there in fifteen minutes, bud.” Jack reached out and began brushing the hair from Mac’s forehead. His skin was hotter than before and he seemed more unconscious than conscious. Even still, Mac seemed to melt into the comforting touch. Jack couldn’t help but smile a little; it worked like a charm every time. 

A few minutes later the calm was broken when the jet hit another patch of rough air. The whole plane seemed to fall several hundred feet before settling back into place. 

This time, Mac did scream. 

He pitched up, gasping loudly, and Jack lunged forward, taking the kid in his arms and holding him close to his chest. 

“Deep breaths, bud.” Jack whispered as he ran his hand up and down Mac’s back. The kid was so tense Jack felt like he could be touching a concrete wall and there would be no difference. “We’re almost there.” 

“Jack,” Mac gasped. “I can’t take this anymore.” 

Jack felt tears prickle in his eyes and checked his watch. They still had five minutes to go. 

“I know,” Jack soothed. “Bet they’ll give you the good stuff this time.” 

Mac laughed thickly, “hope so.” 

“That’s pretty much guaranteed.” Jack kept up the soothing motion of his hand running up and down Mac’s back and sighed when he felt the kid’s muscles start to loosen. “What kind of jello do you think you’ll go for this time around?” 

“Is that...even a question?” Mac’s breath hitched again and Jack held him closer. 

“I know, I know. You always go for yellow. I don’t know how you eat that stuff.” 

“It’s lemon.” Mac frowned, eyelids growing heavy. “Lemon’s good.” 

“It tastes like floor cleaner.” Jack continued with the banter. Banter was good. 

“No, it doesn’t.” Mac argued lightly as the jet began its descent. Even though the fasten seatbelt sign came back on, none of the agents left their spots. “What do you think, Riles?”

“Do I think lemon jello tastes like floor cleaner?” Riley asked, reaching out and squeezing Mac’s knee. “Not really. Sorry, Jack, but I like it, too.” 

“And you two call me the old one.” Jack sighed in relief as the landing gear touched down on the runway. They were that much closer to getting Mac the help he so desperately needed. 

Mac simply groaned, digging his face deeper into Jack’s shirt. 

As the door opened, and two paramedics swarmed onto the jet, Mac gripped Jack’s shirt tight. 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you,” he whispered before the paramedics got a hold of him and had him on a backboard, ready for transport. 

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” Jack brushed the hair off Mac’s forehead. “Let’s just focus on getting you better, deal?”

Mac held up his fist as the backboard was lifted. Jack gently bumped his own fist against Mac’s shaking one. 

With Mac in his life there was never a dull moment, that was for sure. 

“Deal.” 

The End.


	3. Imprisonment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - Imprisonment
> 
> When Mac is trapped in the dark, Jack is there to pull him out. 
> 
> Characters: Mac, Jack  
> Tags: Mac Whump, Worried Jack, Hospital, Life Support, Car Accident, Angst

“Hey there, hoss.” Jack’s quiet voice cut through Mac’s foggy mind. 

It was dark and cold wherever Mac was. He hugged his knees, or at least the idea of his knees, to his chest and closed his eyes. It didn’t make a difference, it was dark with his eyes open and dark with his eyes shut, and either way his eyes were still closed in the real world anyway. 

He could feel his real body out there. It felt heavy and was frustratingly and completely unresponsive to his commands. He was numb, morphine coursing through his veins, and everything was still. 

He knew he was in a hospital but he didn’t know which one. He could feel the hard bed under him, the cervical collar around his neck, and the tube down his throat. He could feel the pulse ox monitor on his finger and the central line, along with all the other IVs. There was a beeping, a clicking, and a whooshing. They were all going at distinct and very different patterns. At one point, there had been an alarm, hands on his chest, and too many voices to keep track of. 

He knew what was happening in the real world, but he was trapped in a separate one - the dark one. He couldn’t wake up, or squeeze the nurse’s hand when asked, or move. It was like being stuck in quicksand, trapped in a nightmare, and blindfolded all at once. All he could do was let the machines keep him alive and listen. 

Jack?

“I’m right here with you, bud.” Mac felt his hand move, gun calloused fingers gripping his, running along his knuckles. Another hand on his shoulder, the touch grounding. Mac opened his eyes in the dark, willing his eyes out there to do the same, and focused on his own fingers. 

He couldn’t remember what happened. The last thing he remembered was driving back home after a mission. The team had plans for dinner that night. He was going home to shower and change before making his way to the restaurant. 

“I have to be honest, you’re really scaring me this time.” 

Mac was scared, too. He didn’t know what was wrong with him or why he was trapped inside his mind as his body refused to be his own. He had always been proud of the fact that he could find a way out of any bad situation. He knew how to look at random objects and turn them into something useful, something life saving, but now he couldn’t even move his hands enough to twitch. 

“Man, getting that call was the worst moment of my life. I’m more than proud to be your emergency contact, don’t get me wrong, but man do I wish they never had to use it.” 

Mac frowned against the dark, willing his memory to show something. 

“That wreck really messed you up. I’ve seen you in a lot of hospital beds, homie, but i’ve never seen so much equipment around you. I don’t even know what half of it does. I bet you’d love to get your hands on it, though.”

Mac’s mind smiled. Every other time he’d been conscious enough in medical to move they had to MacGyver proof the equipment so he wouldn’t mess around with it. He insisted he wasn’t trying to break it, and would put it back exactly the way he found it, but the offer was always refused. If he could move, they’d have a field day trying to keep him away from everything. 

“The worst part is they can’t even tell me if you’re going to be okay this time, or if you can even hear me.”

I can, Mac wanted to scream. He wanted to say that someday it would all be a bad memory. When he was better they would promise to never talk about it again and move on. It would still be there, in the back of their minds, reminding them how fragile life was, but they would keep going - just like after Cairo. 

“The police showed me pictures of your Jeep. There was...barely anything left of it. But they said it wasn’t your fault at all. It was a goddamn drunk driver. Can you believe it? After all these years tangling with the worst of the worst, it’s a drunk driver that…” 

It comes back in flashes, lighting up the dark. The steering wheel and road ahead of him, and then it all jumbled together. There was a crash of metal on metal, screeching brakes and honking, pain...so much pain as everything crunched together. Snapping and breaking inside him. 

It was over almost as soon as it began. 

Then he was stuck, bent out of shape like the frame of the Jeep, and it was silent for just a moment.

It took so long to get free. He didn’t know how to get out. Just like in the dark. But there were voices, comforting hands, and they got him out. Those voices, those hands, that reached into the wreckage, saved him. 

That was as far as the memories went before he lost time and woke up in the dark, pieced back together like a puzzle, and yet trapped again. 

Instead of the wreckage around him, it was the wires and tubes, the machines keeping him alive despite his body trying its best to stop. 

He wanted to ask what happened to the drunk driver? If he’s that bad off then the other driver must be, too. 

“I know what you’re thinking in that big, ol’ brain of yours. The other driver’s fine. Pretty bad case of whiplash and a concussion but I think the guilt is probably worse than the injuries. So you can stop worrying about him and start focusing on getting better, you hear me? We need you around, man. I need you to stick around.” 

Of course Jack knew everything he was thinking, even in limbo. As tired as Mac was, as much as he would have loved to slip into the darkness just get unstuck, he couldn’t leave. 

He focused everything on his hand in the real world. He focused on the beeping, the whooshing, the clicking, the calloused thumb running along the back of his hand, the soft timber of Jack’s voice. 

He thought of the day Jack was supposed to go home but reenlisted because he couldn’t leave Mac alone in the desert. The moment Jack jumped into Lake Como to pull him out. How safe he felt when Jack grabbed his hand and towed him back to shore. He thought of Riley smiling while they played Skee-ball and Bozer explaining the history of Christmas Pastrami. 

He thought of the fist bumps, the Die Hard marathons, and the greasy pizza. 

Their games of charades, the close calls, and the comfortable silence as they all sat around the fire pit. 

The way Jack showed up for him in Paris and every other moment Jack proved he was more of a father than his own had ever been. 

He held onto those moments tight, focusing every good memory he had into his body, his cold hand in Jack’s warm one.

“You can’t give up, man.” 

Never.

He wasn’t one to give up, even when the battle seemed unwinnable. Jack was right. They had survived so many moments that tried to kill them. They survived bullets, and explosions, and torture. 

They looked death in the eyes every day and refused to let it win. 

“I know you’re in there, Mac. Please, just give me some kind of sign so I know you’re still fighting.” 

Mac nodded in the dark, focusing even harder on the fingers held tight in Jack’s, and willed himself to hold on just as tightly. 

Jack had never let him go. He didn’t leave him in the desert, or Cairo, or Lake Como, or any other time Mac was sure he would. Despite every other experience in Mac’s life telling him he wasn’t worth sticking around for, Jack proved the opposite was true. 

That was something he could grab onto in the dark. He pulled, hand over hand, as he made his way back up to the surface. The more he pulled, the more pain he felt, but he didn’t let that stop him. Pain meant life and he had never been afraid of either of those things before. It was too important to keep moving forward, to keep pulling himself along. 

His family was waiting from him out there, and just like Jack had never let go of him, Mac wasn’t going to either. 

“Please, anything. Let me know you’re still with me.”

I’m still with you, Jack. 

In the real world, Mac’s hand finally twitched. 

The End.


	4. Impaling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 - Impaling
> 
> Mac, Riley, and Bozer go Urban Exploring on their day off, and everything's fine until the floor caves in under Mac and Riley's feet, leaving Mac literally stuck in the basement. 
> 
> Characters: Mac, Riley, Bozer  
> Tags: Mac and Riley Whump, Worried Riley and Bozer, Trapped, Impaled, Broken Bones, Sad Childhood Stories

“Ugh, this place is so gross.” Riley complained as she stepped over the nastiest carpet she’d ever seen in her life. “How is this supposed to be fun again?” 

“Yeah, I’m with Riley, Boz.” Mac didn’t even want to think about the germs that must have been covering the abandoned house they were poking through in the name of Urban Exploring. “What are we even doing here?”

“What do you mean?” Bozer asked, placing each step carefully. The smell of mold was thick in the air, the windows were blown out and it looked like a pretty bad storm had come through the area, thoroughly soaking every inch of the house’s interior. Because the location was deep within the tree line, there wasn’t enough sun to dry anything out. “I thought you guys wanted to come along?”

“We did,” Riley said. “When you showed us that Youtube video of the guys exploring the abandoned Sanitorium it looked cool. This is just nasty.” 

“Come on, Mac.” Bozer insisted. “I thought you would at least have fun poking around old stuff.” 

“I do like old stuff,” Mac agreed, opening the cellar door and peering down. “But we’re not even supposed to be in here.”

“Right, isn’t this illegal?” Riley added, freezing in place. Bozer sighs audibly, and Mac couldn’t help but grin. They weren’t going to make it easy for Bozer. Where would be the fun in that? Maybe it wasn’t fair that both Mac and Riley were ganging up on him but it was just too easy sometimes. 

“Okay, yes, this is technically trespassing.” Bozer said, throwing his hands out to the side in defeat. “Fine, are you happy now?” 

“Ecstatic,” Riley beamed proudly. “Now what are we waiting for? Let’s urban explore!” 

“Alright, let’s just be careful.” Mac explained, glancing around at the foundation of the house. “Water damage has wreaked havoc in this place. Do you feel the floorboards? They feel squishy because water has seeped through. We don’t want to be here when they give out. Let’s look around for a few minutes but then we have to go.” 

“Yes, sir.” Riley mock saluted and Mac rolled his eyes playfully. “So, what are we looking for?”

“I don’t know,” Bozer said and Riley shook her head. 

“Aren’t you the expert in this stuff?” 

“No.” 

“So you go down a Youtube rabbit hole and now we have to poke through an old, musty house and you don’t even know why?”

“It’s called leading a more adventurous life, seeing what the world has to offer, and experiencing the thrill of abandoned spaces.” Bozer punctuated each word with his hand like he was reading a billboard. 

“Was that in the video?” Riley asked. “Also, we get plenty of that stuff every day or did you forget about what our missions are like?” 

Mac couldn’t help but smile as the two continued their back and forth for a few more minutes before the conversation died off. He didn’t love the idea of trespassing but it was fun to hang out as just the three of them. Riley was right, their job was adventurous and thrilling but it was also dangerous. So much of their time was spent trying not to die. It was fun doing something normal for a change. Jack was stuck at home with a concussion and a healing dislocated shoulder from their last mission so it seemed like a good time for the three of them to spend some quality time together. 

He carefully closed the cellar door and made his way into the dining room where Riley was. Bozer had made his way into the only accessible bedroom. 

“Does Bozer seem okay to you?” Riley asked quietly. Mac shrugged, he’d been asking himself the same question for months. 

“I don’t know,” Mac admitted. “I can’t get him to talk about Leanna but I know it’s bothering him that they can’t be together.” 

“Is that why you agreed to this trip?” Riley whispered. Mac nodded. “Honestly, me too. Those stupid videos seem to be the only thing cheering him up lately.” 

“Yeah,” Mac frowned, watching the doorway that Bozer had disappeared into closely. 

“Should we try to talk to him about it?” Riley asked. “I don’t want him to think we’re trying to pry.” 

“I’ve known him since we were kids,” Mac shrugged. “I don’t think he would see it that way.”

“Maybe you should bring it up.” Riley suggested. Mac nodded. It did seem like the best plan. They couldn’t let Bozer bottle it up forever. Of course he knew they were both there for him but it didn’t hurt to make the fact known again. 

“Okay, but let’s do it on the way back.” Mac said, taking a step forward. The boards under his foot felt weaker than the rest and seemed to sag in under Mac’s weight. The whole floor groaned. There was only a second for Mac’s brain to comprehend how bad that was before the floorboard gave out under his foot. 

The effect was like dominos tumbling into each other. The first board sunk into the ground, creating a bowing effect. The boards around it struggled to hold their combined weight while maintaining the structure of the floor but everything was too damaged. They splintered under the weight, creating a crater in the floor. Mac felt himself falling forward into the hole but his chest caught on the edge which tipped him backward. He felt the breath whooshing out of his lungs and then he was staring at the ceiling. Dust overtook his vision, and all he could think of was the weightlessness of the freefall, before he landed on his back on the hard ground below. Pain exploded through him, his lungs seized in his chest, and then it was lights out. 

He came too before the dust had even had a chance to settle. He was sprawled out, arms fanned at this side, and his head felt too heavy. So did his eyes. He could barely open them as his head rolled to the side. The basement was dark except for the light from the hole in the floor above them. He could hear Riley groaning somewhere behind his head and tried to call out to make sure she was okay but the words got caught in his throat. He tried to bite down the cough but it barked out of him anyway. He grunted as his chest ignited in sharp spikes of agony. There had to be a few broken ribs in there somewhere. 

“Ow,” he heard Riley groan again. “Mac? You okay?”

“Ye-yeah.” He grunted past numb lips. Some of the air that had been knocked out of him was coming back. As he started to be able to breathe more easily, his head cleared a little. He still felt too heavy, though. He heard the sound of dragging and soon she was in his field of vision. Her eyes were cloudy as blood trickled from a large cut in her hairline. She held her palm to her forehead and squinted in the dim light. He tried to roll over, the need to check on her outweighing the heaviness in his limbs, his chest, but suddenly Riley’s eyes widened. 

“Woah, Mac, don’t move.” She placed her hand on his upper shoulder to keep him still and he frowned. Sure, there was a chance he could have a neck injury but he could still feel his arms and legs. He wasn’t any worse off then she was and she was moving. 

“Mac! Riley! You guys okay?”” Their eyes turned toward the hole in the floor to find Bozer peering down at them, deep worry clear on his face. 

“No, we need help down here!” Riley called up, glancing nervously at Mac. He wanted to insist that he really was fine but his brain was getting mushy. Dark spots were poking at the edges of his vision and he blinked them away. Once he got his breath back they could get out of there. 

Bozer’s footsteps were frantic on the stairs as he made his way into the basement. He skidded on his knees beside them and sucked in a breath when he saw Mac. 

“Oh my god,” Bozer pulled out his phone before swearing. “Damnit, there’s no signal here.” 

“We need to get him out,” Riley insisted and Bozer nodded, frowning down at his best friend.

“Guys, I’m fine.” Mac said, trying to get up again. A stabbing pain in his shoulder stopped him cold. He fell back, crying out as every muscle in his shoulder felt like it was shredding and tearing to pieces. Two sets of hands held him down this time. 

“Mac, open your eyes!” Bozer tapped his cheek and Mac didn’t even realize they had closed. 

“What?” His head lolled on the dirty floor as he tried to lift it to see what was wrong. He only managed to lift his head an inch off the ground but it was enough to see exactly what had them so freaked out. The basement was unfinished, clearly under construction when the house was abandoned, and unfortunately that meant there were long sections of rebar sticking out of the floor. Mac realized, with growing horror, that he had landed right on one. The rebar had punched through his shoulder and was effectively pinning him to the ground. Blood stained the metal that rose grotesquely above his body. “Oh, that’s not good.” 

“No, Mac, that’s not good at all.” Riley agreed frantically. “What do we do? You need a hospital right now.”

“So do you,” Bozer directed back at her. “I can tell you’re hurting, too.” 

“Yeah, I landed on my leg weird.” 

Bozer glanced back at the sprawled out limb. “Is it broken?”

“Probably.” She admitted again. Bozer pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and sighed. That meant neither of them was moving. 

“I have to get help.” Bozer finally said, it was the only way he could do something productive for his injured friends. “You two okay alone until I find a signal?”

“I don’t know,” Riley shook her head. “But I do know we definitely won’t be okay if you don’t.” 

“Right, okay, just hold on.” Bozer brushed Mac’s hair off his forehead for a second before standing. “Both of you stay awake, okay?” 

“Okay,” Mac whispered. Bozer looked to Riley. 

“I’ve got him,” She said and with that Bozer disappeared back up the stairs. Mac listened to his footsteps until he knew his friend had made it safely out of the house before closing his eyes. The longer he laid there, the worse the pain was getting. He didn’t realize he was groaning until Riley was sitting closer to his side, brushing the hair off his forehead just like Bozer had. He leaned into the touch, grateful for the comfort it brought. 

“Stay awake, Mac.” Riley told him. “You’ve gotta open your eyes.” 

“Sorry,” Mac grunted, forcing his eyes to open again. The world was swirling around him now as Riley blurred in and out of focus. He found her worried eyes and locked in on them as the tightness in his chest expanded. 

“Why do you always say that?” She asked gently, continuing to brush his hair back. 

“What?” He asked honestly. 

“You always apologize, even when nothing that happened was your fault, even what you’re the one hurt.” 

“You’re...hurt, too.” He reminded her. 

“That’s not what I meant,” She continued. “You don’t always have to apologize.” 

“It just...feels like...I do.” Mac admitted. “Old habits.” 

“What do you mean?” Riley tapped his cheek when his eyes closed again. Mac groaned as he forced them open once more. His whole body hurt, especially his shoulder and chest. They were definitely the worst out of everything. He wasn’t even sure he was injured anywhere else because those two places hurt so much. 

She reached down and grabbed his hand, careful not to move him too much, and squeezed protectively. He squeezed back, his mind wandering back to her question. 

Why did he always feel like he needed to apologize? Why did everything feel like his fault. He knew, deep down, that he wasn’t to blame for everything bad that happened but still, it always felt like it. 

“Did I ever tell you...the story...about why I’m afraid of heights?” He asked. She shook her head. “I was eight…and my dad gave me a kit...to build a remote control airplane.”

“That sounds awesome,” she said and Mac nodded weakly. 

“It was,” He hummed. “Took me...two days to build...must have cost a fortune, though.” 

“What happened?” 

“I wasn’t...supposed to fly it until...my dad came home from a business trip...but I was so excited I cou-couldn’t wait.” 

“You flew it anyway?” Riley urged the story on when Mac faltered. 

“Yeah, Boz and I...we took it to a field by his house. There was this...huge tree...and I got the plane stuck near the top.” 

“What did you do?” Riley squeezed his hand tight and Mac snapped his eyes open again. He was so tired. He didn’t care about that story anymore. He didn’t care if Bozer found help in time to save him, as long as Riley was okay. It hurt so bad and he just wanted to sleep. 

“What did you do?” Riley insisted louder. “Come on, Mac, this is helping distract me from my leg.” 

Mac hadn’t thought about that. He was so wrapped up in his own agony that he completely forgot about the pain she must be feeling. He almost apologized again but caught himself. 

“I climbed...th-the tree.” He said matter of factly. “Bozer told me nuh-not to but...I didn’t want my dad...to be disappointed in...me. I climbed so fast...I didn’t realize how high up...I was. Then, right before I g-got to the plane...branch broke. Fell.” 

“Were you okay?” Riley silently begged Bozer to go faster as she watched as Mac slowly faded away. Blood welled around the rebar, and down his shoulder, to form a puddle underneath him. His voice was fading, growing quieter and quieter as the story went on. If they didn’t get help soon, Mac probably wouldn’t make it. They couldn’t lose him, especially not like that. 

“Mac, did you get hurt when you fell?” 

“Yeah, I-uh-broke…” He faded off again, watching some random point in the ceiling through the hole in the ground. She cupped his cheek with her hand and turned his head to face her. Tapping gently, the blue eyes cleared and he focused back on her. She could hear a faint, raspy wheeze every time he breathed. The only thing that was abundantly clear was that she was losing him, too fast. 

“What did you break, Mac.” Riley felt tears fill her eyes and she blinked them away. She couldn’t break down when Mac needed her. She had to be the strong one, for both of them. 

“I broke my arm,” Mac picked up the story again. “The plane came...down with me...and smashed. Bozer hid it at his...house. Wanted to tell his mom...what happened...but wouldn’t let him.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because my dad...would be mad. Went home...tried to hide it...but he found out anyway.” 

“Of course he did, he’s your dad.” 

“Was so mad...that day. I said I was sorry...so many times...but it didn’t matter.”

“I’m sure he was just worried about you.” 

“Maybe,” Mac hummed. “It was my fault, though.”

“No it wasn’t.” Riley told him. “You were a little kid, of course you were excited. It wasn’t your fault you got hurt.” 

“Should have...listened.” 

It shattered Riley to know that someone as sweet and caring and selfless as Mac could ever have a parent that was anything but those same qualities. Instead, Mac’s dad sounded heartless and cold. Her dad wasn’t great either but she knew if she had gotten hurt he would have protected her, worried about her at least. Mac didn’t even know if his dad ever cared. That wasn’t fair. The unfairness broke her heart. 

The door banging into the wall above them caught both of their attention. Rapid footsteps overhead, followed by a quick descent down the staircase, found Bozer kneeling beside them again. 

“Any luck?” Riley held her breath, not releasing Mac’s hand, as Bozer nodded. 

He was out of breath but still got out, “they’re sending a rescue chopper now. It’ll be here in fifteen minutes.” 

Riley sighed in relief. That was cutting it close but it could have been so much worse. They would keep Mac talking. They would make sure he stayed awake until help arrived. 

“Did you hear that, Mac?” Riley traced her hand down Mac’s cheek. He blinked tiredly at her but still managed a small smile. “They’re coming to get us. Just fifteen more minutes.” 

Just fifteen more minutes, Mac thought. 

He would make it that long. 

For them.

Continued on Day 6 - Insomnia


	5. Take Me Instead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 - Take Me Instead
> 
> When a mission goes wrong, and Mac is in trouble, Jack makes an offer he hopes the bad guys can't refuse.
> 
> Characters: Mac, Jack, Riley  
> Tags: Mac Whump, Protective Jack, Worried Riley, Gunshot Wound, Blood, Threats of Human Trafficking

When missions went wrong, they usually went wrong quick. 

The shipment of stolen weapons was traced to an abandoned warehouse just outside St. Petersburg, Russia. 

As soon as Mac, Jack, and Riley pulled up to the site, the buyers were already starting to arrive. Riley stayed in the van while Mac and Jack snuck inside. Jack took out the guards easily and distracted the arms dealers, as well as the few buyers that were already in the process of making their transaction, with a good ol’ fashion gun fight while Mac rigged the crates full of weapons with enough explosives to render them useless. 

It was all going perfectly according to plan until a guard they hadn’t accounted for got a shot on Mac and took it. The bullet only winged him but it was enough time for the guard to get the jump on him. As soon as the guard pulled Mac, held firmly in a chokehold, into the line of fire in the center of the warehouse, a gun pressed firm to the side of his head, Jack had to stand down. 

“Who do we have here?” The head arms dealer, Yuri Kuznetsov, asked of their new arrival. 

“Caught him in the stash, boss.” The guard yanked Mac forward, pressing more firmly on his throat. Mac’s eyes widened as his air supply was cut off. He pulled at the bigger man’s arm, desperate for him to let up enough for some oxygen to get through. Mac could feel the blood dripping down his upper arm. He knew he had to think of a way to get free soon or he wasn’t getting away at all. His eyes scanned the wall of crates Jack had taken cover behind and hoped he only stopped shooting because he saw that Mac was in trouble and not because he couldn’t shoot anymore. He blinked away the dark spots descending over his vision and subtly reached for his pocket. 

“I see,” Yuri walked up to them slowly, studying Mac’s appearance carefully. “Give him some air.” 

The guard immediately released his hold, but just enough so Mac could gulp in several lungfuls of oxygen, before the grip tightened again. 

“That’s better,” Yuri said and Mac let his hand inch a little bit closer to his pocket. 

Yuri noticed. 

“What do we have here?” He asked, reaching into Mac’s pocket and pulling out his swiss army knife. “You weren’t planning on using this were you?” 

Mac closed his eyes as he lost his best chance at escape. Yuri flipped open the large blade and pressed his finger to it. 

“Sharp little thing, isn’t it?” Yuri asked before reaching out and grabbing Mac’s wounded arm. Mac couldn’t help but cry out as fingers squeezed into the wound. He froze when the blade was thrust toward his face, stopping centimeters below his right eye. 

“You have beautiful eyes,” Yuri said and Mac’s heart thudded faster in his chest. He couldn’t stop staring down at the knife. “I would almost like to keep them for myself. But if you’re here, you probably know all about my little operation. Unless you are simply a thief which is still not going to work out for you very well. But if you do know about my little operation, you may also know that it is a lot bigger than just what’s in these crates.”

Mac’s eyes shot up to meet Yuri’s. They didn’t know that going into the mission. There was chatter that suggested there might have been more to it, but they came in under the assumption they were taking down a small-scale arms ring. 

“I also sell objects of another matter altogether.” Yuri’s eyes traveled up and down Mac’s body as he said it and Mac’s skin crawled as the pieces started to come together. “Blond hair and blue eyes sell fast, no matter the gender. Bring him to the van and find his friend.” 

As soon as Yuri released him, the guard started pulling him toward a side entrance. Fear pounded through Mac’s chest. He used that adrenaline to kick out, to struggle, against the massive arms wrapped around his chest and throat. He couldn’t get in that van. He knew what happened to the people who disappeared like that. If he let them take him, he would never be found. 

Mac willed Jack to jump in and take everyone in the warehouse out. If there was ever a time that he needed his overwatch, it was then. 

“Woah, hey, let’s just stop right where you are and let’s talk about this.” 

Mac could have cried when he heard Jack’s voice. To Mac’s great surprise, the guard actually stopped. Jack walked out from behind the crates with his arms up, his gun flipped in his hand as a sign of surrender. The four other men in the warehouse, except for Yuri, the buyers, and the guard, drew their weapons on Jack but he didn’t even flinch. The only movement he made was to place his gun on the ground before straightening back up. 

“And who are you?” Yuri asked, almost bored. 

“I’m the guy that’s gonna hunt you down and kill you slow if you take that kid away.” Jack, on the other hand, didn’t sound bored at all. He sounded dangerous. 

“And how are you planning on doing that if you’re dead?” Yuri asked, glancing at his men. “I didn’t know dead men could make threats.” 

“You haven’t killed me yet,” Jack pointed out. “Which tells me you’re willing to talk, make a trade even, like a businessman. You are a businessman, right?”

“And what are you, a businessman, too?” 

“Nah, you got it all wrong.” Jack said, his eyes catching sight of the blood dripping down Mac’s arm, the heavily muscled arm nearly choking him out. “I’m just a guy who doesn’t want to see anything bad happen to that kid right there, especially not what you’ve got planned” 

“And what are you willing to trade to make sure nothing happens to him? I am, as you said, a businessman. He’s worth something in my line of work. What are you willing to trade to make up for the money I’m going to lose out on if I give him back?” 

“Me,” Jack said, eyes locking with Mac’s. Mac tried to struggle again, unwilling to let his best friend make that kind of trade, but it only made it easier for the guard to grab onto his arm and yank it hard behind his back. Mac tried not to, but as he felt all the muscles in his shoulder tear, he cried out, dropping to his knees. 

“Hey, no stop!” Jack yelled, taking a step forward. He was met with a blast of gunfire to the ground right in front of his feet. He stopped, glaring dangerously at the guard as his hands balled into fists above his head. Yuri shook his head at the guard who immediately released some of the tension on Mac’s arm. “If you don’t hurt him again, you can take me instead. I promise, no funny business. Please, take me instead.” 

Yuri eyed Jack carefully, taking him in with critical eyes. “We could find a place for you.”

“Good,” Jack visibly sighed in relief. “Now let him go.” 

“Not so fast.” Yuri interjected, walking back over to Mac who was still breathing heavily in pain. “I didn’t say I was making the trade. Yes, we could find a place for you but you wouldn’t make me the same amount of money as your friend here. Therefore, as a businessman, this is clearly an unfair offer on my end, and, therefore, I have no choice but to refuse.” 

“No,” Jack’s eyes widened, face paling, as he realized there was no talking their way out. “Wait, hold on a second-”

“Here’s my counteroffer.” Yuri said, before pulling a gun from inside his suit jacket and firing it directly at Jack. 

Mac’s mind went blank as Jack fell back, unmoving. He could feel the scream building up inside him as he was dragged to the door again. He fought against the arms pulling him away but it was no use, there was no escaping the ironclad hold the guard had on him. 

“Bring him to the truck,” Yuri said, bored again. “I’ll be right out after we finish the transaction in here.” 

When they got outside and it was just Mac and the guard, Mac exploded. He threw his whole body weight back into the man. Luckily, it caught him off guard enough so they both tumbled back. Mac struggled out of the man’s grip but just as he got upright a giant hand grabbed his ankle and pulled, sending him crashing back down to the ground. With his left arm shot and his right shoulder all but dislocated, he didn’t have a lot of options left to fight back. Instead, he kicked out at the man, catching him directly in the gut. The guard simply took a step back before charging at Mac.

Mac felt his hands wrap around his throat as his head was slammed into the ground, once, twice, and he couldn’t breathe. 

As swirling darkness descended rapidly over his vision, Mac’s last thought was at least if he died there he wouldn’t have to suffer in the hands of anyone else. 

He was willing to make that trade. 

Just as his ears were ringing enough to make him deaf to everything else, and his vision snapped into blackness, the hands let him go and something heavy thudded to the ground by his side. 

He opened his eyes to find Riley looking down at him, worry forming lines between her eyebrows. She had a metal pipe in her hands and dropped it as soon as she saw that the guard was out. She kneeled down, her hands exploring Mac’s injuries as if looking for something worse than what she could see. 

“Mac, you okay?” She asked and Mac shook his head, fighting to stand up. 

“No, Jack-” He tried to tell her. They had to get to Jack. He’d been shot and the arms deal was still happening right inside. 

“Who me?” It was Jack’s voices but it couldn’t be. Mac jolted upright despite Riley’s protests. She caught his shoulders to keep him still but he grunted when the muscles in his shoulder protested. “No need to get up on my account, hoss.” 

“Jack?” Mac couldn’t believe that Jack was actually standing in the doorway, seemingly fine. “But-” 

“But nothing,” Jack kneeled down on his other side and took Mac’s arm in gentle hands, checking on the still bleeding gunshot wound. “That’s why I wear a vest, brother. You should think of doing the same.” 

“But Yuri, the arms deal?” Mac fumbled over his words, completely ignoring the fact that he had been shot in the arm and a vest wouldn’t have stopped that. 

“Is being taken care of as we speak.” Jack pointed toward the open door where the Russian Special Purpose Police Unit was arresting Yuri, his men, and the buyers. Mac couldn’t help but sigh in relief, all the tension leaving his body in a rush. 

“You were willing to trade places,” Mac swayed as Jack put pressure on his bullet wound while checking the back of his head where it had been slammed, repeatedly, into the ground. “Why would you do that?” 

“I’d do anything to keep you safe, bud.” Jack told him sincerely. “You know that.” 

“But-”

“But luckily I was never going to have to. Before I interrupted the party I got a hold of Riley and told her to get the local authorities over here for back up. Matty cleared everything with them and all I had to do was stall until they got here.” 

“So you weren’t going to go with them?” Mac swayed again and was caught by both Jack and Riley. They helped him stand, supporting him on either side as they carefully got him back to the van. 

“Nope,” Jack said as they got Mac settled into the backseat. “But if it had been the only way, I would have. In a heartbeat, kid.” 

On the way back to exfil, those words repeated over and over again in Mac’s head. He was always amazed by the lengths Jack would go to protect him. It wasn’t lost on him how special that was and he wondered what he had done to deserve a friend like Jack in his life. Either way, he was grateful. 

And Mac knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if the roles had been reversed, he would have done the same. 

The End.


	6. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 - Insomnia
> 
> After the horrible accident at the abandoned house, the team has trouble sleeping, and has to lean on each other to process what happened. 
> 
> (Set after the events of Day 4 - Impaling)
> 
> Characters: Mac, Riley, Bozer, Jack  
> Tags: Recovering from Injuries, Lingering Pain, PTSD, Guilt, Found Family, Fluff

Mac couldn’t get comfortable. 

He had only been home for two days since the incident at the abandoned house, having spent two weeks in the hospital because of an infection that crept up due to the unsanitary nature of the rebar. Since arriving home, he hadn’t taken anything for the lingering pain in his shoulder. The wound had healed pretty well but the deep ache remained. 

One of the strict rules he had for himself was to never take pain meds except for when he was in the hospital. He realized the necessity for that rule the first time he got injured on the job. It was clear from the beginning how dangerous the job was, and even though he didn’t have addictive tendencies, he still didn’t want to tempt fate. He knew Jack had the same rule for himself, and even Bozer and Riley followed it. 

However, toughing out the pain didn’t help any of them fall asleep when they got hurt and Mac was no exception. 

He stared at the clock as the time changed from 3:43am to 3:44. He wanted to roll over but if he rolled onto his injured side it was like getting impaled all over again, and if he laid on his uninjured side gravity felt too heavy on the wound, and his back still hurt from the healing broken ribs. 

It was a losing battle. 

He tried to close his eyes anyway but moonlight was streaming in from the window he forgot to close and was illuminating the room too much. 

It was distracting. 

It had been days since he’d actually slept. Even the last few nights in the hospital had been restless. The longer he closed his eyes, the closer he got to sleep. When that happened, his mind went right back to the accident. 

He could still feel the weightlessness of falling, the agony of landing, and the even sharper, more agonizing pain when he realized he had fallen right on rebar. He could still see the look of pain on Riley’s face as blood cascaded down her forehead.

He vividly remembered the way Riley’s leg twisted in the wrong direction. The new weightlessness as he was slowly bleeding out internally. The way his vision whited out and his ears rang as unconscious tried to take over. The terrifying thought that if he gave into how tired he felt he probably would have never opened his eyes again. 

He could still hear Riley’s scared voice. 

“Stay awake, Mac. You’ve gotta open your eyes.”

Mac’s eyes shot open as his body reacted to the memory, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He wanted to tell his brain that he could fall asleep now. He wasn’t in danger of dying anymore but it had yet to catch up. 

He tried to even out his breathing, trying to stop his shoulders from tensing in stress, which only made them tense more. He grunted, grabbing onto his bad shoulder, and curled up around it. 

Everything about injury recovery sucked. He had a lot of practice but it never got easier. The best thing was to stay busy but that was hard to do in the middle of the night. Regardless, he pulled himself to a sitting position and stretched his bad arm slowly to relieve the tension. It helped a little. 

Instead of laying back down, only to continue suffering in silence, he got up in search of a distraction. 

He glanced in Bozer’s room to find his friend curled up on his bed, facing the wall. In the living room, Jack was snoring loudly on the couch, but he caught the top of a messy bun out on the deck. The sliding door was already open a crack so he slid it, very slowly, across its track. Luckily, it didn’t squeak like it sometimes did which would have definitely woken Jack up. Riley was sitting by the unlit fire pit with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her leg, in its dark blue cast, was stretched out in front of her and her crutches were laying on the ground. 

She glanced up at Mac as he lowered himself, very stiffly, until he was sitting beside her. He gripped his shoulder as it was jostled and huffed out a pained breath. 

“You okay?” Riley asked, watching him carefully. Mac opened one eye and forced a soft smile. Instead of saying anything, she wrapped one half of the blanket around him, too. 

“I’m fine.” Mac said after a few seconds of silence. 

“You’re looking kinda pale.” She said, clearly not buying it. At least, not one hundred percent. 

“I always look pale.” Mac pointed out and Riley couldn’t help but smile. 

“That’s true.” 

“How are you holding up,” Mac asked, pointing to her cast. She reached out and touched the hard plaster coming up just over her knee. 

“It’ll heal.” She told him. “It’s not like I had a metal pole sticking out of my chest.” 

“It was my shoulder.” Mac correctly immediately. “And you still broke your leg in three places, Riles. That has to suck.” 

“Yeah, it does.” She admitted. “But again, probably not as much as - what was it - four broken ribs, internal bleeding, and - oh yeah - a metal pipe sticking out of your shoulder.” 

“That does suck, too.” Mac said, wincing again as another sharp stab ran straight through his shoulder. He grabbed for it, gently massaging the muscles there, until the pain faded. 

“Is that happening a lot?” RIley asked, watching him closely again. Mac nodded, realizing it wasn’t worth it to lie about how much it really did, truly suck. It was strange, all four of them had been at the house since Riley, and then Mac, returned from the hospital but they hadn’t talked about what happened yet. Jack and Bozer insisted on helping them as they recovered and it just made more sense to have everyone living under one roof. They had been distracting themselves with nature documentaries, Die Hard marathons, and cooking shows but the accident itself had yet to come up in conversation. 

“I guess this will teach us to wander into abandoned houses with damaged floorboards.” Riley smiled, her haunted eyes betrayed her, though. She did have the responsibility of keeping him alive when Bozer went to get help. That was never easy.

“I guess so.” Mac said as the screen door slid open behind them. This time, Bozer tip-toed over to sit on Mac’s other side. 

“Hey Boz,” Mac greeted. “What are you doing out here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Bozer frowned, taking in his injured friends. A flash of something crossed over his face as he took in Riley’s cast and Mac’s hunched posture - Mac recognized it immediately. 

Guilt. 

“Yeah, neither could we.” Riley said. “Got sick of staring at the wall.” 

“I know what you mean.” Bozer hugged his arms around himself, his eyes never leaving them. Mac could see how much the accident was eating away at him. He couldn’t stop the yawn that crept up as he contemplated how to let Bozer know it wasn’t his fault. Even something as simple as yawning pulled on his healing ribs and he hissed when his whole back began to throb in time with his heartbeat.

“You okay, Mac?” Riley asked again, nudging him softly to get his attention. 

“Yeah,” Mac said. “It just…”

“Hurts?” Bozer asked and Mac nodded. “Maybe you should try to sleep again? Or do you need anything?”

“No,” Mac reached out, grabbing Bozer’s arm as he started to get up. “It’s really okay.” 

“It’s not okay, man.” Bozer said quietly as he sat back down. “I mean, look at you two.” 

“We’ll heal, Boz.” Mac promised. Bozer didn’t look convinced. He merely looked out at the LA skyline, wringing his hands in his lap. 

“Yeah, but you both wouldn’t need to heal if I hadn’t insisted we go to that damn abandoned house.” Bozer did stand this time, starting to pace by the fire pit. “That was such a bad idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

“You didn’t make us go anywhere,” Riley said. “We’re both adults. We agreed to go because it sounded like fun. We wanted to go.” 

“But you got hurt,” Bozer stopped long enough to take in their appearances once more before his pace picked up. “When I saw that damn rebar sticking out of your shoulder, Mac, I didn’t think I was going to get help to you in time. I thought I was going to lose my best friend because I saw a Youtube video and talked him into doing something dangerous.” 

“But help did get there in time.” Mac reminded him. If it hadn’t, they wouldn’t even be having the conversation. 

“But it almost didn’t.” Bozer’s voice was rising in volume as he paced faster. “We couldn’t get you to wake up by the time the rescue team got there. You were so still and lifeless. I really thought you were gone, man.” 

“I’m not.” Mac let the blanket fall off his shoulders and stood, grateful he didn’t get a headrush, and walked up to Bozer. He placed his hands on Bozer’s shoulders to get him to stop pacing and waited until Bozer’s eyes met his before he kept going. “I’m right here. I’m alive because you saved me. You got help to us in time, and because of that, I’m still alive.” 

“You wouldn’t have even been there if-” Bozer tried to say but Mac cut in again. 

“It was an accident.” Mac paused as the word lingered in the air around them. “Accidents happen all the time. We wanted to come with you and what happened was nothing more than an unfortunate accident. Do you think I would ever let an unfortunate accident keep me from being around?” 

“No way,” Bozer said, sounding a little more sure. 

“Right,” Mac smiled. “No way. What about you, Riles?”

“Am I gonna let an accident stop me from kicking both your asses in skee-ball?” She asked. 

“No way.” Bozer said again, even more firm. The sliding door opened again. 

“Are you guys having a party out here without me?” Jack asked. He didn’t like he had actually been sleeping, either. 

“You know us,” Riley said. “Would we do something like that?”

“Based on the clear evidence right in front of my eyes, I would say yes.” Jack said. “And I told you before, I ain’t letting any of you out of my sight for a while.” 

Mac squeezed Bozer’s shoulders one last time before letting go. Bozer smiled at him, a real one for the first time since before the accident, and held onto Mac’s arm as he swayed a little. 

“You good?” Bozer asked, helping him sit back down next to Jack. Jack immediately put a stabilizing arm around Mac as his other hand reached out for Riley’s. 

“I’m good,” Mac answered honestly. It would take some time but like with all wounds, the physical ones and the ones buried deep inside, their pain would lessen. 

In the meantime, Mac could only hope that they would all have better luck sleeping tomorrow. 

The End.


	7. Poisoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - Poisoning
> 
> When Mac is dosed on a mission, the team stays with him in medical while they run tests to figure out what he was injected with. At first, everything seems fine until Mac suddenly collapses. 
> 
> Characters: Mac, Jack, Riley, Bozer  
> Tags: Mac Whump, Worried Team, Medical Mystery, Respiratory Distress

“Jack, I told you, I’m fine.” Mac insisted as Jack guided him toward medical. Riley and Bozer were following close behind. The three had been sharing nervous looks between each other since Mac was injected with a mystery substance on the mission. Mac kept telling them he didn’t feel a thing but they insisted he get checked out anyway. He had to admit it was a good idea, even if he felt fine. The man who got the jump on him was a little too smug after he injected him before getting away. After Mac pulled the needle out of his own arm, they brought him right back to Phoenix. 

“Yeah, well, I think it will make us all feel a lot better if you just get checked out, dude.” Jack wasn’t taking no for an answer on that one. 

“Director Webber warned us this wasn’t just a post-mission check up.” Dr. Sanders said as they walked through the glass doors into medical. Jack’s hands didn’t leave Mac’s shoulders as he led him to the closest bed. 

“We weren’t so lucky this time, doc.” Jack said, pushing down lightly on Mac’s shoulders to get him to sit. Mac obliged with a disgruntled huff. “Mac got injected with something, no idea what, though.” 

“Okay, do you still have the needle?” Dr. Sanders asked. Mac nodded as Bozer handed her the empty syringe. “Did you see how much was in here before you were injected with it?”

“I didn’t see it,” Mac admitted. Dr. Sanders nodded, jumping right in with her examination.

“Are you experiencing any symptoms right now?” She asked, listening to his heart and lungs. 

“My arm’s a little sore,” Mac lifted his right arm up. Dr. Sanders wrapped the stethoscope back around her neck as Mac pulled the right sleeve of his blue flannel button up shirt off. He felt a little uncomfortable with his whole team watching but it wasn’t like they hadn’t seen him without a shirt on before. Dr. Sanders seemed to notice. 

“Want some privacy?” She asked. Mac shook his head, fine with them there. As she examined his arm, Mac took the chance to catalogue the rest of his body. Other than getting injected with a mystery substance, they had all managed to come out of the mission unharmed. He did feel a little lightheaded, and his arm felt a little heavy, but he chalked it up to not eating anything that day because of the mission. 

“There’s a little swelling and redness around the injection site.” Dr. Sanders told the nervous group. “Any other symptoms?” 

Mac didn’t want to hold back anything that could be useful so he told her about the weakness and dizziness. She frowned, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his good arm and clipping a pulse ox monitor to his finger. She watched the readings carefully. 

“Your blood pressure is fine.” She said. “But your pulse ox is down.”

Before Mac knew what was happening, he had an oxygen mask strapped over his nose and mouth. He flinched when the hard plastic touched his face, the cold air reminding him of another day, another mask, carrying pure nitrogen into his lungs instead of oxygen. 

“Don’t worry,” Dr. Sanders said. “This is mainly a precaution. I don’t want to risk that number getting any lower.” 

“He gonna be okay, doc?” Jack asked, taking a step closer to the bed as soon as the mask was placed over Mac’s nose and mouth. If anyone knew how much Mac hated those things it was Jack. 

“I’m going to run some tests.” Dr. Sanders grabbed her tablet and pulled up Mac’s chart, taking note of what she had already observed. “And I’m definitely keeping you here, Mac, until they come back. That way, if you feel anything new or the symptoms get worse, you’re already right where you need to be and we can treat you faster.” 

“Do you think there’s going to be more symptoms?” Riley asked, her eyes trained on Dr. Sanders every move. 

“Until we know what he was dosed with, there’s no way of knowing. For the moment, we have to assume there will be.”

“Looks like you’re stuck here then, bud.” Jack smiled and placed a comforting hand on Mac’s shoulder. Mac frowned, wanting to fight the ruling but understanding the importance of being monitored. He couldn’t deny that he was uncomfortable not knowing what was in his body or how it might affect him. If something did go wrong, he’d rather already be there. 

“How long do you think the tests will take?” Mac asked, as a nurse handed him a gown to put on. He stared at it distastefully as the team was shooed away and the curtain was pulled closed around his bed. 

“I’m going to expedite them, luckily you’re our only patient right now, but it could be a while.” Dr. Sanders told him sheepishly. She knew, as much as his team did, how much he hated being in medical. She would never keep him there longer than was completely necessary. 

An hour and a half later found Mac sitting cross legged on the gurney in a hospital gown and a thin blanket pulled up to his waist. He was leaning over a chess board Riley found, contemplating his next move. The steady beating of the heart monitor ticked away behind him as the oxygen mask hung loosely from his neck. He’d ditched that pretty much as soon as the medical staff left him alone. Jack was sitting in his usual chair, flipping through a Guns and Ammo magazine as Bozer napped in the neighboring hospital bed. 

“You know you guys don’t have to stick around the whole time.” Mac said, making his move. “Check.” 

Riley frowned, biting her fingernail as she contemplated how to get out of the corner he had backed her into. Jack dropped the magazine on the side table and laced his fingers together behind his head. 

“You looking to get rid of us, hoss?” Jack smiled as Mac rolled his eyes. 

“Of course not,” he said. “This just has to be the most boring way you could spend your night, that’s all.” 

“It’s how you’re spending your night.” Riley pointed out, making her move on the board, managing to get out of the check. 

Mac glanced at his arm, flexing his numbing fingers. He had already told Dr. Sanders about it and she told him to let her know if it got worse. It was still annoying, though. 

“It’s not like I have much of a choice.” Mac poked absently at the cotton ball taped to his inner elbow. It felt like they had taken half his blood, and every other bodily fluid, to test and they had yet to find any answers - except for the fact that there were no drugs detected in his system. Mac was more than grateful for that but they still wouldn’t let him go home yet. Honestly, he was grateful they were staying there with him, even if he felt bad about wasting their evening. 

“If it was one of us, would you go home?” Jack asked. 

“Of course not,” he said immediately. If it had happened to them, he wouldn’t be able to relax until he knew they were going to be okay. 

“Well, there you go.” Jack picked the magazine back up. Mac made another move on the board, finding he had to fight his fingers to pick up the piece. His vision faltered a little, the board blending together in front of his eyes before snapping back into clarity, and a wave of drowsiness washed over him. 

“Check.” He said again, rubbing at his eyes as a headache started creeping in. 

“What?” Riley asked, glancing at the chessboard and then back up at Mac. 

“Check,” Mac stared at the board. Wait, where did he put his piece? 

“That’s not a check, Mac.” She watched him closely. “That wasn’t even a legal move.” 

“You okay, hoss?” Jack asked, dropping the magazine to his lap and leaning closer to the bed. He put his hand on Mac’s arm as he swayed a little. 

“Yeah, ‘M, good.” He rubbed at his forehead this time, the headache punching up a few notches. It was getting harder to breathe, too, his chest felt too heavy. 

“You sure?” Riley glanced nervously at the numbers on the monitor behind Mac as his heart rate started increasing. “Mac?”

“Huh,” he tried to look up but his head felt heavy, as well, he felt himself swaying forward and a hand caught his shoulder, keeping him upright. “Yeah, g’ys..’m good.” 

“Woah, hate to say it but I’m not really believing you there, bud.” Jack was on his feet now, pressing the call button over and over. 

“What’s happening?” Bozer asked, awake now. He stepped closer, feeling frozen in place as Mac swayed, his expression pale and blank. Mac tried to raise his hand but his arm was so heavy he could only get it an inch above the blanket before it dropped back down like a stone. 

“Get help here, now!” Jack told him. Bozer nodded before immediately disappearing through the break in the curtain. 

“Mac, hey, what’s going on?” Jack asked as Mac’s eyes dulled, lashing fluttering against pale cheeks, before he completely slumped over, boneless. Riley only had a second to push the chessboard off the bed before Mac landed on top of it. The monitor behind Mac started screaming out a desperate alarm. 

“Mac!” Riley cried out. Jack couldn’t breathe as the curtain was ripped open and medical staff, including Dr. Sanders came barreling into the space. Riley jumped off the bed to give them more room and Jack backed away. They watched as Mac was lifted up and positioned so he was laying on his back, the flurry of activity around him increasing when his chest barely rose or fell. 

“What happened?” Dr. Sanders asked them, pressing the stethoscope to Mac’s chest in several places, before placing the mask back over his nose and mouth. 

“He was fine,” Jack recalled, his throat dry. “Then he just went down. His speech was slurred and he was confused.”

“Damn it,” she swore at the readings she was getting. “Pull the bed out, he’s in respiratory distress.” 

Jack felt his own lungs halt in his chest as the head of the bed Mac was laying on was pulled away from the wall. Dr. Sanders moved behind him before throwing the pillow to the ground, removed the useless oxygen mask, and tilted his chin up. She worked efficiently as she opened his mouth and slid a laryngoscope down his throat, followed closely by a thin plastic tube. She pulled the metal blade out and the tube was immediately attached to a ventilator that had been rolled up beside the bed. 

“Jack?” Riley whispered, leaning heavily into his side. Jack wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close as the simple act of breathing was taken over for Mac. The alarms stopped ringing as Mac’s heart rate eased back into a normal pace. The bed was pushed back against the wall as Mac was settled back in. 

“What just happened?” Jack asked when Dr. Sanders guided them out of the curtained area a few minutes later. 

“He stopped breathing but beyond that we still don’t have answers.” She said, frowning back at the curtain. “We have a few tests that haven’t come back yet. It looks like whatever he was dosed with is attacking his nervous system. We’re seeing the effects of full body paralysis right now, that’s why his lungs stopped working.” 

“He’s paralysed?” Bozer asked fearfully.

“Not permanently,” she said. “Hopefully when whatever he was poisoned with runs its course the effects will reverse.” 

“And you still don’t know what it was?” Jack asked, his own heart thudding in his chest. How could this happen? Mac was fine, and then he wasn’t. It didn’t make sense.

“We know it wasn’t drugs or any of the usual poisons we usually see.” Dr. Sanders paused for a second. “It was slow acting, delayed. Started with moderate pain and swelling at the puncture site, followed by numbness and tingling in the effecting limb. You said his speech was slurred?” 

“Yeah,” Riley said. “He was rubbing at his eyes and forehead like he had a headache and he was confused.” 

“The confusion was from his decreasing oxygen levels,” Dr. Sanders said. “Slurred speech, headache, did he look really tired or was he really excited?” 

“He looked tired, pale, and his eyes looked weird.” Bozer added. 

“Weird how? Were his eyelids drooping?”

“Yeah,” Bozer said. “Exactly.” 

“Excuse me,” Dr. Sanders' eyes lit up. “Stay with him, push the call button if he gets worse. I have to check something.” 

As she hurried away, the team made their way back to Mac’s side. He looked so small in the hospital bed, the tube down his throat such a horrible visual reminder of how bad things were. Bozer sat at the end of the bed as Jack pulled the chair closer to Mac’s side and grabbed his limp hand. 

Riley was too nervous to sit still so she picked up the chessboard and pieces that had fallen all over the small space. It was a miracle nobody had tripped over them when everything went wrong. She set the board down on the small rolling table by the foot of Mac’s bed, placing the pieces back the way they were when their game was interrupted. She held up the small, wooden rook that had started it all when Mac made his random move. She set it back in the place it had been in before. She’d give Mac a second chance with that one when he got better. 

He had to get better. 

It wasn’t long after that a flurry of bodies moved around Mac’s bed again. Jack, Riley, and Bozer backed away and watched as Dr. Sanders injected something into the IV that had been placed during all the commotion. 

“There you go,” she smiled down at her patient, watching the monitors closely. “You should be feeling a lot better soon.” 

“What was that?” Jack asked, sitting back down and running his hands through Mac’s floppy blond hair. 

“Antivenom.” Dr. Sanders said. “Specifically an antivenin designed to reverse the effects of the Calliotoxin in Blue Coral Snake venom.” 

“Snake venom?” Riley winced, fear coursing through her at the mention of her greatest phobia. 

“It’s been confirmed, Mac was dosed with coral snake venom.” Dr. Sanders explained. “It explains all the symptoms and why they didn’t appear until a few hours after he was envenomed. We didn't catch it earlier because he wasn’t bitten by the snake itself. We weren’t even considering snake venom before but all the symptoms fit the bill.”

“So, he’ll be okay?” Jack asked nervously. Snake venom was bad but it was treatable. They had to have figured it out in time. They couldn’t lose him now. 

“We’ll keep an eye out for an adverse reaction to the antivenom, and we’ll treat any symptoms from the venom itself as they appear, but the prognosis is good.” 

“Thank you, doc.” Jack smiled gratefully at the news. “Mind if we stay with him?”

“Of course not,” Dr. Sanders said before leaving the team alone with Mac. They all settled in again, and for the first time it was with confidence that things were on their way to getting better. Mac still wasn’t breathing on his own, the paralysis still affecting every inch of him, but he would never leave them. 

“We’re right here with you, man.” Jack promised. “Take all the time you need but make sure to come back to us.” 

The only answer was the soft click-whoosh of the ventilator, but that was okay. 

As long as Mac got better, that was all that mattered. 

The End.


	8. Hey, Hey, This Is No Time To Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - Hey, Hey, This Is No Time To Sleep
> 
> Mac and Jack are kidnapped by a serial killer who exsanguinates his victims. Unlucky for Mac, it's his turn first.
> 
> Characters: Mac, Jack, Riley, Bozer  
> Tags: Kidnapped by a Serial Killer, Mac Whump, Worried Jack, Needles, Blood Loss

Mac wasn’t as used to waking up groggy as one might expect. 

Sure, it happened in their line of work but luckily not on every mission. They got captured, sometimes injured, sometimes tortured, but mostly they came out the other side with nothing more than sore muscles and adrenaline crashes. 

That clearly wasn’t going to be the case this time. 

“Mac,” Jack’s voice cut through the murky waters of newly gained consciousness. Mac groaned, deep in his chest as he fought his way to the surface. “Mac, you with me yet?”

Mac merely groaned again, head twisting to the side where Jack’s whispered voice was coming from. 

“Geez, what did he drug you with?” That was a good question. Mac couldn’t open his eyes yet but he was starting to get some feeling back in his body. Fear kicked his molasse brain into gear and he finally forced his heavy eyelids open. Everything was fuzzy in front of his eyes, dark and flickering against concrete walls. 

Mac shook his head, desperate to gain back his normally perfect sight. Everything ebbed and weaved around him, twisting and contorting in front of his eyes and Mac had to close them or risk throwing up everything he had eaten in the past couple of days. 

“Jack?” He heard his own drugged voice calling out. There was a slight shift somewhere to his right and a heavy sigh of relief. 

“It is good to hear your voice, man.” Jack admitted. “I was starting to think you had checked out on me for good.” 

“Never,” Mac blinked a single blue eye open again and this time the world started tilting back into place. He was laying down on something hard, tight straps wrapped around his ankles and wrists. He tried to lift his arms but couldn't get more than an inch before the restraints stopped him. There were thicker straps around his stomach, chest, and thighs. The only thing he could move was his neck which certainly didn’t put his chances of escape any higher. Another glance to his right showed Jack in the exact same position on a long metal table. The room was cold, metal drawers lining the walls. 

“That’s good to hear,” Jack told him. “How are you feeling?” 

“Slow.” Mac wanted to explain that he felt like he was stuck in quicksand, his thoughts trying to move through crystallized honey, his tongue felt too heavy. “Tired.” 

“Yeah, he drugged you with something nasty.” Jack tutted. “Sorry, hoss. I should have been able to stop him.” 

“Are you...okay?” Jack didn’t sound drugged but if someone was able to get the better of him than they must have hurt him somehow. 

“Got me with a goddamn taser,” Jack grunted, fighting against his restraints. “I don’t know if you remember but he got you with it, too. Took us down and injected you with something before shoving bags over our heads and throwing us in a van. I think he knew I was memorizing the route because he tased me again. I woke up the same as you, tied up here.” 

“Guess we found who we were looking for.” Mac blinked lazily at the fluorescent light directly above him. “Wasn’t expecting the morgue. 

“Me either, hoss.” Jack agreed. “But don’t worry, man. We’re not gonna end up like the other victims.” 

“If we do,” Mac started but Jack cuts him off. 

“We’re not, okay? I’m not gonna let him anywhere near ya.” 

“Jack.” Mac ran his eyes over Jack’s seven point restraints. Realistically, there was nothing Jack would do to stop anyone right now. Mac refused to say it, though, not wanting to add to his best friend’s guilt. If the pattern remained the same then Mac was going to be the first one killed. The younger man was always drained of blood, the older man was always executed with a bullet to the head. No matter what happened, Mac was grateful that it would be fast for Jack when the time came even if he couldn’t say the same for himself. 

“I know,” Jack seethed through gritted teeth. He pulled harder on his restraints and Mac wanted to tell him to stop, that he’d just end up hurting himself, but he knew Jack wouldn’t listen anyway. “I just don’t like that it sounds like you’re giving up.” 

“I’m not.” Mac promised. He didn’t want that to be their end so he pushed against the drugs still working their way out of his system and looked around as much as he could, taking in every corner of the morgue. There had to be something he could use. They were in their normal clothes and Mac could feel the outline of his swiss army knife in his pocket but he couldn’t move his hand enough to get to it. “Besides, Riley and Bozer are looking for us. They’ll find us.” 

“In time?” Jack muttered, mostly to himself, as the sound of slow footsteps made their way up a long hallway just outside. 

“We’ll get through this.” Mac said quickly. He needed Jack to believe it, too. 

Jack chuckled under his breath. “Pretty sure that’s my line, kid.” 

Mac could still hear him shifting, pulling against his restraints, as the footsteps got closer. Mac felt his own heart thudding painfully against his ribcage. His hand scrabbled more desperately for his knife and he worked it higher up his pocket. If he could keep that up, he’d get to it in no time. That was as far as his plan went but he could trust himself enough to know that he always thought of something. 

The man who walked in looked completely normal. His hair was light grey. He wore thick rimmed glasses, khaki pants, and a blue button up shirt with a yellow hospital cover over it. He didn’t look at either agent when he walked into the room. 

It wasn’t often they went after serial killers but it wasn’t completely out of their repertoire of missions - one of the first missions Matty sent them on was to catch who they thought at the time was the Zodiac Killer. 

The thing that always surprised Mac was how ordinary they were. The man had killed eighteen people and he looked like an accountant. 

“Hey man,” Jack said. “I don’t know what you’ve got going on in here but the kid and I don’t want anything to do with it, okay?”

The man looked over at them curiously before walking over to Jack’s table. He peered down blankly. 

“And what exactly do you think is going on here?” The man asked. His voice was soft, quiet. He had the demeanor of someone who could walk down the road and never be noticed by anyone. 

“As far as we’re concerned, there’s nothing going on.” Jack said. “We haven’t seen anything.” 

“You’ve seen my face.” The man said. “And you can stop with the innocent bystander act. I know you have been trying to find me - trying to stop me. I saw you both at my house the other day, poking around in things that don’t belong to you.” 

Mac’s eyes widened. The house they had searched belonged to Lester White. They thought he was a victim, not the killer. They didn’t think they were that close yet. Apparently they were wrong. 

“Then you know we don’t work alone, right?” Jack said. “Our team will be looking for us and they're pretty good at finding us when we get in trouble, right Mac?” 

“Exactly,” Mac added. If the team was going to have enough time to find them, they had to stall as long as possible. “They will find you, but if you let us go, we can work out a deal.”

“Are you saying you can keep me out of prison?” Lester asked, making his way over to a tray of supplies by Mac’s head. He picked up a butterfly needle that was connected to a tube and moved so he was standing directly behind Mac, peering down at him darkly. 

“No,” Mac admitted. “But we can stop you from getting the death penalty.” 

“You think death scares me?” Lester asked, pushing Mac’s head to the side. Mac’s heart thudded harder beneath his ribcage as the needle slid into his neck. From the corner of his eye, he could see the tube fill with blood. Lester placed the end of the tube into the drain behind Mac’s head. 

“Hey, leave him alone!” Jack yelled, fighting against his restraints, but Lester ignored him. 

“Death doesn’t scare me.” Lester said. He may as well have been doing the dishes. “Does it scare you?”

“Doesn’t death scare everybody?” Mac asked. Luckily the needle was small so he wasn’t bleeding too quickly but every other victim that fit Mac’s description had been completely exsanguinated. 

“It shouldn’t.” Lester said, patting Mac’s cheek almost comfortingly. “At least not like this. I’ve heard it feels like floating away, or falling asleep. Do those things sound so bad?” 

“Yes.” Mac said. He had almost bled out before, twice, from their failed missions in Cairo and Lake Como. He knew what it felt like to slip away, knowing if he fell asleep he wasn’t waking up again. There were certainly worse ways to die but Mac didn’t want to die at all. 

“Then you’re just like the others.” Lester said. “You better find a way to make your peace with it then. Say goodbye to your friend and don’t fight the darkness when it comes to take you. It’s easier that way.” 

Lester’s attention turned back toward Jack who was desperately fighting against his restraints. “It’s your job to watch him go and then this will all be over for you, too.” 

“Screw you,” Jack jerked against his bonds again but it was no use. They were tied down tight. 

Lester merely shrugged before leaving the two agents alone in the morgue. 

“Jeez, are you alright, dude?” Jack asked as soon as Lester was gone. He craned his neck to try to get a better look at the blood draining slowly out of Mac. 

“So far,” Mac said. He pulled his head away from the needle, the tubing, but the needle stayed firmly in his neck. 

“How long are we talking here, Mac?” Jack asked nervously. Mac went back to work trying to get his swiss army knife out of his pocket. If he could cut through the restraints on one of his wrists, he could pull the needle out of his neck, get himself and Jack free, and then they could take Lester down. 

“Donating a pint of blood takes about ten minutes.” Mac explained automatically. “There are ten to twelve pints in the average adult body. At most, I’d say I have about forty minutes.” 

“That’s not a lot of time, man.” Jack’s voice was thin, weary. Mac knew how helpless the older man must have felt. There was very little they could do other than wait for the team to find them. Despite the low odds, Mac kept going for his knife. He wasn’t willing to give up that easily. 

“I know,” Mac agreed. “We have to trust that Riley and Bozer will get here in time.” 

“They don’t even know where we are,” Jack pointed out. “Hell, we don’t even know where we are. And, I hate to point this out, but you’ve already been bleeding for ten minutes.” 

“Then I’ve only lost a pint.” Mac tried to go for the silver lining but that wasn’t the point. They were already running out of time, even if Mac still felt fine. In another ten minutes, he’d definitely start feeling it. 

“You have to promise me something right now,” Jack was leaning as far over as he could, unwilling to take his eyes off Mac. Mac nodded. “You tell me what you’re feeling, okay bud? I need to know exactly what’s going on with you. We’re both in this together, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Mac agreed. He had to admit, he was grateful Jack was there. He didn’t want to believe they wouldn’t escape, or get rescued, but their chances were looking pretty bad. 

“You go kaboom, I go kaboom.” Jack promised. “I’m right here.” 

Mac’s eyes burned with the intensity of the promise. He had to blink away the tears that threatened to fall, swallowing back the lump in his throat. Jack was there. He wasn’t alone. 

“Thank you,” Mac realized he barely ever said those words to Jack. They didn’t always need to but the idea of Jack not knowing was unacceptable. “Just in case.” 

“Nah, man, we’re not starting on the goodbyes already.” Jack tried to infuse as much levity into his voice as he could but it fell flat. “We’ve still got thirty minutes, right? That’s plenty of time for Riley and Bozer to get here.” 

“I know,” Mac tried to pull away from the needle again but there was no use. He was so close to getting his knife out of his pocket. He just had to keep trying. Mac turned his head back toward Jack and the world dipped a little. “It’s just-”

“What, hoss?” Jack gently pried. “You feeling something?” 

“How long has it been?” Mac asked, he couldn’t see the clock but Jack’s eyes went right to it. 

“About fifteen minutes now.” Jack told him. “What is it?” 

“I’m just getting a little dizzy,” Mac said. “Not bad but I think it’s safe to say I had closer to ten than twelve pints.”

“Of course you did,” Jack frowned at their bad luck. “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Yeah,” Mac shivered gently as his breathing picked up a little. Finally, his knife fell out of his pocket, landing with a solid thud on the table. 

“What was that?” Jack asked and Mac simply held the knife up for Jack to see. Jack beamed at the beautiful sight. 

“I’m gonna try to cut myself lose,” Mac explained, blinking against another wave of dizziness. “How long?” 

“Twenty minutes, man.” 

That wasn’t good. At twenty minutes, that would be about two pints. That wasn’t completely dangerous, some people donated that much at a time, but their timeline was getting shorter. His fingers felt numb as he tried to pry the large blade out one-handed. The clamminess was getting worse. 

“Talk to me, hoss, what’s going on over there?”

“I can’t get it open,” Mac grunted as he lost his grip and the knife thudded back to the metal table. He tried to breathe through the anxiety bubbling up inside him but it was getting more difficult by the minute. All he could focus on was the needle in his neck, his heartbeat that only seemed to be thudding harder in his chest, and how cold the room was getting. 

“Hey, Mac?” Jack’s worried voice cut through the fog and he opened his eyes. “You gotta say something, here. I’m starting to freak out.” 

“I can’t get it,” Mac told him through gritted teeth. 

“Let’s try again, okay?” Jack coached gently. “You’ve got this.” 

“Okay,” As soon as Mac breathed deeply, he found the knife easily. He closed his eyes, running his thumb over the familiar tool, and continued to breathe. After a moment, he tried again. The blade flipped open enough for him to get his thumb inside and pull it open. It clicked into place with a firm snap. 

“Got it!” Mac said triumphantly and got to work sawing at the thick restraints around his wrist. It was going to take a while but at least they had a chance. 

“Good job, bud.” Jack smiled. “How are you feeling?” 

“About the same,” Mac wasn’t sure if it was just the adrenaline keeping new symptoms at bay or if he was really doing okay. “How much time?” 

“I don’t think we need to keep saying it,” Jack winced as he stared at the clock. “Just keep doing your thing, man.” 

“Jack,” Mac insisted. Somehow, it was worse not knowing. 

“Okay, fine, it’s been twenty-seven minutes.” Mac halted his work. It felt like time was moving too fast. With renewed vigor he started sawing away again. 

A few minutes later, his vision whited out, which would have been fine except in the brief half-second he passed out he let go of the knife. It clattered uselessly to the floor. 

“Damn it,” Mac grunted, head shifting on the table. Black spots were dancing across his vision, now.

“Mac?” Jack called out to him. “Talk to me, brother. You’re scaring me again.” 

“Jack?” Mac twisted his head to the side, the needle sharp in his neck as the blood continued its steady pace. He could hear it pattering into the drain behind his head, like a faucet on low. Too much. He was losing too much. 

“I’m right here,” Jack promised again. “You awake?”

“Yeah.” Mac’s tongue felt uncomfortably dry. He felt like he could drink a gallon of water and still be thirsty. He didn’t even care that his knife, maybe their only way out, was gone.

“Keep talking to me,” Jack was sounding farther away. Maybe his timeline was off and he had less time than he thought? It wasn’t an exact measurement, just an educated guess. Educated guesses could be wrong. “Keep your eyes open!” 

“They are,” Mac insisted. Didn’t Jack know how tired he was? 

“No, they’re not.” Jack said sadly. Mac didn’t like it when Jack sounded like that. He forced his eyes open, unsure when they closed in the first place, and made himself look at his best friend. Jack looked like a live wire, coiled and ready to jump out of his skin. He was pulling desperately against his restraints but it really was no use. 

“Jack?” Mac asked again, not knowing what he was asking but needing to anyway. 

“Right here, bud.” Jack said. “Just breathe, okay.” 

“Time?” Mac asked. Jack’s eyes glanced to the clock before glossing over. 

“Thirty-six minutes.” Jack told him. That was it, then? Mac felt tears flooding his eyes once more and he couldn’t stop one from escaping. It fell down his cheek, into his hair below. 

Everything was fading in and out, swirling around in great starbursts of color. Sleep pulled at him and he thought he had never felt so tired before. His eyelids were so heavy.

“Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep!” Jack’s voice faded, there but drifting away. And Mac fought against the heavy, fought against the darkness, but it was pulling at the edges of his mind.

“Jack…” Mac breathed, feeling the shock of blood loss taking hold, taking over, dripping down the drain like it wasn’t important. 

“Stay with me, Mac!” 

Mac felt another tear fall from his hooded eyes down into his hairline as he stilled. He felt like he was only a millisecond away from falling asleep but he couldn’t go without Jack knowing just how much he meant to him. It wasn’t fair that their story should end like that, not when they still had so much to do. 

With a gentle flutter of eyelashes against pale skin, Mac watched curiously as his vision flickered out. 

He didn’t see the door burst open, Riley and Bozer charging in with a tac team close behind. He wasn’t aware of Riley untying Jack as Bozer ran up to him, pulling the needle out of his neck immediately. Jack was at his side in a second, unbuckling the restraints as fast as he could. He swept Mac into his arms, his kid limp and unresponsive - too pale. 

Mac didn’t feel as his arm fell limp, his head tilted back, in Jack’s arms. He didn’t hear Jack’s soothing words of comfort, encouragement, as they ran out of the morgue. The sun burned Jack’s eyes as he flew toward the waiting ambulance and placed Mac on a waiting gurney. 

Mac didn’t see as Lester was led into a police car and driven away, as the ambulance doors slammed shut and the sirens screamed out like his faltering heart rate on the monitor. 

When Mac opened his eyes again, it was to the steadier beat of a stable heart rhythm. As the fog cleared, he felt a gun calloused hand in his. 

“Jack?” Mac slurred, exhausted but safe. 

“Hey there, bud.” Jack’s voice was soft. “We made it.” 

Mac smiled faintly, grateful their luck had held out one more time, before drifting back to sleep. 

The End.


	9. Buried Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9 - Buried Alive
> 
> A whumpier version of the cold open in 1x06, Wrench. While trapped in the car underground Jack, Riley, and an injured Mac have to figure out how to escape as they slowly run out of air. 
> 
> Characters: Mac, Jack, Riley  
> Tags: 1x06: Wrench, Gunshot Wound, Bleeding Out, Car Accident, Explosion

“Jack, you’ve gotta go faster!” Riley yelled from the passenger seat of the bullet-ridden sedan they had definitely stolen. She twisted around, cradling the scarf-wrapped air defense system under her arm like a football, as another round of bullets pinged off the side of the car.

“Yeah, I know that, Riley!” Jack yelled back, jolting the steering wheel to the right to get out of the hail of gunfire. “Why don’t you try driving sixty miles an hour down a dirty road with a busted tire and see how easy it is.” 

“Guys,” Mac groaned from the backseat. He was hunched over, leaning against the car door, while pressing his hand to the gushing wound in his side. Before they got in the car, one of the dictator's goons got a lucky shot off, sending Mac crashing to the ground with a bullet lodged in his gut. Jack all but threw him in the backseat, apologizing the whole time, before jumping into the driver’s seat and screeching off. They were almost to exfil but if they couldn’t get rid of the tail they had on them they weren’t going to make it. “This really isn’t the time to argue.”

“I think this is the perfect time,” Jack glanced back at Mac, brown eyes taking in Mac’s blood soaked clothes. “You’ve got a round in ya and we ain’t gonna make it to Exfil. We gotta think of something, man, and fast.” 

“I know,” Mac pressed his hand harder against the wound, blood trickling out from between his fingers. “We have to get them off our tail.” 

“How do you propose we do that?” Riley asked. “I don’t know if you noticed but we seem to be lacking in options.” 

“There’s always something.” Mac pulled himself upright with a pained grunt, swaying gently as the blood rushed from his head, and took inventory of the messy floor of the backseat. Lucky for them, whoever owned the vehicle seemed to throw everything back there instead of in the actual garbage. Mac sucked in a sharp breath as he leaned over and rifled through the various piles of unopened mail and old food containers. Tucked half under the driver’s seat was a pile of four tire snow chains. Mac couldn’t help but smile at the luck and pulled them out of the trash and onto the seat. “Can you make a hard right turn, Jack?” 

“Yeah,” Jack told him. “We’ve got a construction site coming up.” 

“Perfect,” Mac rolled down the window and picked up the first snow chain, the metal immediately smearing with red from his hands. “I’ve only got four shots to do this.” 

“We trust you, brother!” Jack yelled, yanking hard on the wheel as soon as they got to the empty construction lot. Riley nodded, grabbing onto the handle above the door as they slid in the loose dirt. Mac fell against the door, banging his injured side, and would have screamed if the situation wasn’t so dire. Instead, he grit his teeth and leaned out the window enough to toss the first chain at the pursuing SUVs tire. It bounced against the ground, the other vehicle easily missing it. Mac swore low under his breath and picked up the next one. Again, it missed. By the time he threw the third one, he had figured out the physics and hit the front right tire dead on. The tire popped, the SUV swerving, but it didn’t stop. The last one he flung right at the windshield. It splintered from the middle out, obscuring the driver’s line of sight, but that didn’t seem to matter. The driver increased their speed, gaining on their sedan faster than they could get away, their speed having decreased exponentially because of the unstable ground. 

“Hang on,” Jack said, noticing their predicament. Mac fell back inside the car, energy spent. He clenched his hands against his side as pained gulps of air whistles through clenched teeth. “I know how to get away from them! Buckle up, Mac!” 

Mac groaned, wishing he could let the dark spots descending over his vision take him under. There would be a hell of a lot less pain if he could just pass out. Instead, he pulled himself up using Riley’s headrest and clipped the seatbelt on. Mac leaned over, looking ahead to see what Jack’s plan was. There was a hole in the ground, large enough for a truck to fit. If Jack could drive right toward it and then maneuver away at the last second, the SUV behind them might not have enough time to do the same, and could end up nose diving right into the massive ditch. It was genius, and it was dangerous, their team’s usual combination. 

“Everyone hold onto something!” Jack yelled as they got closer to the ditch. Right as Jack spun them away, a second SUV smashed into the back of the driver’s side of their car. Mac felt the titanic jolt of metal on metal and watched helplessly as their car slid dangerously close to the ditch. The passenger wheels caught on the edge and then they were sliding down as the world descended into chaos. Mac lost sight of Jack and Riley as they were tossed like rag dolls even in their seatbelts. There was nothing but colors - dark browns swirled with red and purple and deep green - and sounds like crushed soda cans only so much bigger. And then it all came to a jarring, bone crunching halt. 

When it was all over, Mac could only hear silence, except for the piercing ring in his ears, and the hum of the engine still purring loud and sickly, crackled and damaged. 

His head was pressed against dirt, his window still rolled down when they were hit. He could feel it, gritty in his eye, and pulled his head away. He blinked against the burning, his neck stiff with pain, and his side felt like a white hot poker was sticking into him. He pressed a shaking hand back against the seeping wound, the other pressing to his aching forehead. 

“Mac! Riley!” Jack’s frantic voice filtered in through the hissing ring. Mac blinked lazily at the older man as Jack threw the gear into park and twisted the key, turning the engine off. “You with me? Talk to me!” 

“Jack,” Riley groaned, unable to move yet as the seatbelt kept her firmly locked in place. She pressed her hand to her shoulder where the seatbelt was resting and winced. “What the hell happened?” 

“We got pushed into a goddamn ditch, that’s what happened.” Jack twisted in his seat, a gash in his forehead leaking blood down the side of his face. “Mac, talk to me, bud!” 

“That wasn’t fun,” Mac groaned, raising a shaky hand to stare at the blood coating it. Jack unbuckled before practically climbing into the back with him, clicking the overhead light on as he went. He only made it halfway, kneeling in his seat, as he pressed a comforting hand to the side of Mac’s face. He lifted Mac’s jacket away from the wound and hissed at the amount of blood coating the dark blue shirt. 

“No kidding, hoss.” Jack told him with a frown. “This looks bad.” 

“It’ll be fine,” Mac said, hissing when Jack pressed a balled up piece of cloth he found somewhere against his side, and placed Mac’s pale hand back over the wound. “Just gotta get out of here.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Riley added, unbuckling, and checking on the air defense system. It seemed to be intact, which was more than they could say about any of them. 

At that, there was a heavy thud on the roof of the car. They all looked up, staring at the roof as if they could see through it to figure out what was happening above them. 

It seemed to dawn on all three agents at the same time. The bad guys who were chasing them, who pushed them into the ditch, were now sealing the deal by covering them with dirt. 

“Ah hell, that ain’t good!” Jack groaned, sitting back in his seat the right way. “You know I’m claustrophobic, right?” 

“Well, that’s great to hear.” Riley shifted down farther in her seat, too, as if physically distancing herself from their newest problem would make it all go away. “I don’t exactly love the idea of being down here, either.” 

“Then we’ve gotta get out! Hold on, Mac.” Jack said, fear sending the tone of his voice closer to manic. Mac watched helplessly as Jack thrust his shoulder into the door as more dirt fell in on top of them. Riley kicked out, her foot connecting with the window that was completely solid against the edge of the ditch. It was no use, if anything they were just using up all the oxygen they had left in the car. 

“This is not good,” Jack yelled after hitting the door as hard as he could with the palm of his hand several times. “I had a dream I was buried alive once.” 

“How’d it end?” Riley asked, breathing heavily. She stopped kicking and pressed her hand back to her shoulder. 

“I died, that’s how it ended.” Jack told her desperately. More dirt fell on top of the roof, the thud of it landing sounding more muffled now that the hole was filling up. They were running out of time and talking about nightmares that mimicked their current situation, but ended badly, was not helping. 

“We’re not gonna die.” Mac promised, sitting up a little in the backseat. He gasped as it pulled on his wound. 

“Right,” Jack huffed, glancing nervously down at the saturated shirt Mac was holding against his side. “And you aren’t actively trying to dye the backseat red. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, dude, but this is about as bad as it gets.”

“How much longer have we got, Mac?” Riley asked. He could see the fear in her eyes clear as day. The last thing he wanted to do was tell her what she didn’t want to hear - in this case, the truth. 

“About an hour, maybe more.” Mac finally said. Riley’s eyes widened and she went back to kicking frantically at the door. 

“And what about you?” Jack asked. 

“Less,” Mac told him honestly. With how much blood he was losing, he definitely wouldn’t survive long enough to suffocate. The only good thing about that was it would give Riley and Jack a little more time. He brushed away the morbid thought, not willing to give up that easily. 

Jack immediately joined Riley again, their desperate attempts to get free actually working against them. Mac leaned forward, pressing a hand to each of their shoulders until they stopped. 

“But if you keep exerting energy like that we have less than fifteen minutes,” Mac explained. “We have to conserve oxygen.”

Jack and Riley shared horrified looks before settling back in their seats, forcing a calm none of them were feeling. Subconsciously, they all started taking more shallow breaths. 

“Seriously?” Jack asked, the volume of his voice cut back by more than half. Mac sighed, wrapping an arm protectively around his stomach, and nodded tiredly. 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll choose the longer option.” Jack pointed out.

“Next time you say, ‘I know how to get away from them’ let’s all take a vote before you decide to drive us into a ditch.” Riley said, glaring angrily at Jack. 

“They ran us off the road,” Jack reminded her defensively. “You saw it. You were right there. And second of all, next time we’re fleeing some tin pot dictator’s goons who are trying to kill us because we stole the computer thingy that controlled his whole air defense system, I’ll put our escape route to a quorum.” 

“You’re not using the word ‘quorum’ right.” Riley nitpicked, her anxiety level clearly growing the longer they were trapped. 

“Help me out here, Mac.” Jack closed his eyes, breathing deep to keep his own fear at bay. Mac was leaning so far forward against the pain he was practically laying on their center console. He forced his brain to work, to come up with some way to get them all out, but his mind was completely consumed with the burning pain in his gut. 

“A quorum doesn’t mean a vote, Jack; it means you have the right amount of people present to vote.” As stupid as the whole conversation was, it was distracting, which Mac was more than grateful for. 

“I stand by the spirit of my words.” Jack reached out, clasping a solid hand on Mac’s shoulder. “How’re you doing?” 

“Crappy,” Mac admitted. He was so far beyond hiding how much everything hurt. He’d give anything for some morphine and a solid night’s rest in medical which was something he never thought he’d say. 

“I haven’t seen you look this bad since Lake Como, bud.” Jack ran a comforting hand up and down Mac’s arm. “I hate to have to put this on you, hoss, but I think we need your expertise to get us out of this one.” 

“I think I have a plan,” Mac said, wincing at the idea of moving around as much as his plan was going to ask of him. “But you two need to get in the back, we need to trade places.”

“You sure you should be moving that much, pal?” Jack asked, eyeing him carefully. Mac shook his head. 

“No choice,” he said. “Unless either of you knows where the gas inflator is?”

Jack and Riley shared a quick glance before they both shook their heads, no. Mac shrugged, motioning for them to switch. Mac slowly scooched out of the way so Riley could crawl next to him in the backseat. As soon as she did, Jack reached for Mac’s hand and helped him over the hump into the passenger’s seat. Mac nearly bit a hole in his lip to keep from screaming as the motion pulled on the wound enough to send fresh blood down his side. As soon as he was situated, Jack crawled into the backseat as well. 

Mac breathed deep for a second as the pain slowly abated. He wiped the back of his hand against his clammy forehead and got to work. He knew he had to move fast. He had lost too much blood. There was no way he was staying conscious much longer. 

He reached up, pulling the airbags that hadn’t gone off in the crash from their spots. Then, he made quick work of retrieving the gas inflator. He opened a section of the airbag and put the nozzle of the inflator inside. He pulled the headrest off the back of the seat and set everything up on the dash, right at the weakest point in the windshield. He pulled out the engine wire harness from within the dash and placed one side between the airbag and the headrest. 

With everything in place, he reached out his hand. Jack and Riley worked together to help pull him carefully into the backseat. When he was sitting between them, he opened the scissors of his swiss army knife. 

“Cover your ears,” he whispered, falling limper between them. His eyes were barely open, and his hands shook, but he wouldn’t let himself pass out when he still needed to do one more thing to save his friends. 

He pressed the scissors into the relay connected to the wires. The explosion happened instantaneously. The three agents ducked instinctively as the whole windshield blew off of the front of the car, the force of the explosion sending the dirt they were buried under flying into the air. 

Mac’s ears were ringing again, as the force of the explosion hit them. This time, sunlight streamed down into the front of the car, dirt raining back into the front seats as everything settled around them. 

He felt something shake his shoulder and turned his head to find Jack calling his name but Mac found he couldn’t respond. He was so tired, and everything hurt so bad. He faded in and out as their hands pulled him along. They crawled out of the backseat and up through the hole the explosion had created. Riley made her way up the side of the dirt mound first. She reached back down, grabbing Mac’s hand and pulling him up, as Jack pushed him up from below. 

They slid down the mound of earth together, landing at the bottom in a heap of exhausted limbs. 

Mac gasped as they pulled him to his feet, the world swaying dangerously around him, but they didn’t let go. They held him up between them, dragging him toward the bulldozer that was used to bury them. 

“Are we really gonna drive to exfil in this thing?” Riley asked as the two got Mac settled in the only seat, squished in next to Jack. Riley perched on the small space next to the seat, helping to hold Mac in place. 

“How far from exfil are we, Mac?” Jack asked, tipping Mac’s chin up so his blurry blue eyes had to meet Jack’s. Mac blinked slowly, envisioning a map of the area. His eyes tracked the roads on the invisible map until they landed on their exfil point, the parking lot of an abandoned strip mall not that far away. 

“About fifteen minutes,” Mac shrugged, closing his eyes. 

Jack and Riley shared nervous looks before tightening their hold on Mac. Fifteen minutes wasn’t long, but when one of them was trying to bleed out, every second could make the difference between life and death. 

“We better get going, then.” Riley said. 

Jack didn’t have to be told twice.

The End.


	10. I'm Sorry, I Didn't Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10 - I'm Sorry, I Didn't Know
> 
> On day 1, Jack callously threw the death of Alfred Pena in Mac’s face. On day 67, Jack sees just how much that hurt him. 
> 
> Characters: Mac, Jack  
> Tags: Pre-Series, Sandbox Fic, Army Days, Explosion, Broken Bones, PTSD, Angst

“Ow,” Carl’s Jr. yelped, immediately trying to pull his hand out of Jack’s grip. Jack held onto his wrist, not letting him pull away, and continued probing at the kid’s heavily swollen, and black and blue, thumb. 

“Sorry, dude, but I think it’s broken.” Jack winced in sympathy as he took in the rest of MacGyver’s appearance. The kid was a mess, his pale face smeared with blood from cuts caused by flying debris during the explosion. His bright blue eyes were glassy, distant and shellshocked, as he stared at the still-burning Humvee. 

Luckily, nobody was inside when the IED underneath spontaneously detonated. Jack had taken his position at the end of the block, his eyes scanning every rooftop, every window, and civilian that passed by. MacGyver had still been walking up to the vehicle when it blew. 

Jack was grateful he hadn’t been closer. 

He didn’t reup for another tour just to watch the skinny, know-it-all blow up three days later. As much as Jack couldn’t stand the kid when he first met him, somehow the younger man grew on him, saved him even when he kneeled on the pressure plate and thought he was a goner. That kind of thing had the ability to create pretty strong bonds between people. Even if MacGyver took forever defusing IEDs, was named after a hamburger, and never stopped talking, Jack couldn’t leave him alone in the desert when it was time to go back home. Re-enlisting was the easiest decision he had made in a while. 

That’s why, when the Humvee blew and the kid went flying backwards, Jack forgot all his training that taught him to never run into a situation blind without ruling out other possible threats. He didn’t take in his surroundings and make sure there was no additional danger, as soon as Jack saw the kid land in a painful looking heap on the hard-packed ground, he ran. 

“Geez, kid, you okay?” Jack’s knees protested as he slid in next to the dazed blond. He was moving slow, practically unconscious, and Jack had to hold him down so he didn’t hurt himself more. Jack didn’t know if he had any injuries that could be made worse by moving and he wasn’t about to let the kid take that kind of chance. 

MacGyver was breathing hard, his eyes blinking owlishly as his head jerked around. Jack gripped his shoulders, trying to ground him as his big ol’ brain came back online. 

“Just stay still,” Jack coached. “Take a deep breath.” 

Eventually, MacGyver’s eyes landed on Jack and he reached out a hand, grabbing onto the front of Jack’s ACUs. As soon as he did, he gasped and pulled his hand back, tucking it against his chest protectively. 

“Let me see.” Jack reached for the kid’s clearly wounded hand but MacGyver pulled it away, almost childishly. 

“It’s fine,” he finally gasped out, coughing painfully. Instead of fighting with him, Jack lifted up MacGyver’s chin, forcing him to look up so Jack could see the cuts on his face. While he was at it, he checked to make sure the kid’s pupils were even. Jack was grateful for small favors when they were. 

“Get the wind knocked out of ya?” Jack asked. MacGyver nodded, bracing his uninjured hand against his ribs. “That all it is?” 

“Yes,” MacGyver promised, flinching away as Jack pressed a hand against his chest. 

“Really, cuz it seems more like broken ribs to me.” MacGyver simply glared at him and Jack took the opportunity to grab his wrist. After a few seconds of prodding at the deep bruising that was covering most of MacGyver’s thumb and hand, Jack came to the conclusion that a trip to the infirmary was completely necessary. 

“Think you can walk, kid?” Jack asked. MacGyver didn’t answer, his attention back on the burning Humvee. They had to get out of there fast. It wasn’t safe now that there was a smoking beacon pointing out their location to literally everyone in the area. 

The shell shocked look was back in MacGyver’s eyes, his breathing kicking up a couple notches. 

“Kid?” Jack asked. He didn’t like the way he was looking at all. Without warning, Mac cried out and jumped backwards, landing heavily on both hands. His injured hand gave out immediately and Mac landed solidley on his back, kicking out to push himself farther away. He only made it a few inches, though. 

“Woah, hey!” Jack held up his hands, not wanting the kid to see him as a threat. “Calm down, hoss, you’re okay.” 

After a minute or two, MacGyver stilled. His eyes cleared slowly as he came back to himself. Jack took that as a good sign and reached for the younger man. He held onto one of the kid’s arms, his other palm pressing down right above his knee to ground him. 

“Jack?” MacGyver blinked up at him. 

“Yeah, man, it’s me.” Jack sighed. He didn’t want to push the EOD tech but they really did need to leave. “We have to go; can you stand?”

“Yeah,” Mac nodded and Jack helped pull him, carefully, to his feet. He was a little unsteady so Jack kept a guiding hand on his shoulder as they made their way back to their own transport. 

As soon as Jack had MacGyver settled in, he informed base that he was bringing him in to get checked out at the infirmary, before jumping behind the wheel to start their forty-five minute drive back. 

MacGyver was eerily silent the entire way, simply staring out the window as the landscape passed by. Jack couldn’t stop glancing over at him every couple of seconds. He was pretty sure the kid had walked away with nothing worse than a few cracked ribs, a broken hand, and the cuts on his face, but it wasn’t his physical wellbeing he was worried about as much as his mental status. What he had just witnessed in the kid was a trauma response. Being deployed, it was pretty common for soldiers to experience traumatising things, but Jack realized it was different when he thought about Mac experiencing anything like that. In that moment, Jack realized something had changed. He couldn’t handle the idea of anything hurting the kid and an overwhelming urge to protect him washed over Jack. 

“I can feel you staring at me.” Mac said, his injured hand resting on his lap. The cuts on his face had long since stopped bleeding and didn’t look too bad, but his hand was looking worse by the minute. It had to hurt like hell. “I’m not gonna freak out again, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Jack frowned, not liking the way Mac’s voice sounded. It was like he was putting up a wall between them, shutting away in what...embarrassment, anger? 

“That’s not-” Jack sighed. They barely knew each other and Jack had never seen Mac like that. He didn’t know what to say to stop the kid from crawling back into his protective armor and never coming out again. 

“I can do my job, okay.” Mac shifted in his seat, wincing as his body protested the movement. 

“I never thought anything different, there hoss.” Jack said, trying his best for casual. 

“I’m a good EOD tech.” Mac continued. “Despite what everyone says, I’m not some kid. I know what I’m doing.”

“I know you do.” Jack didn’t know what Mac was getting at. He stayed quiet, hoping he would keep talking.

Jack didn’t know him very well but he knew that when it came to MacGyver, talking was better than silence. If he had something to get off his chest, Jack wanted to give him the space to do just that. 

“I’m here because I want to help people.” Mac huffed out a heavy breath. “When I saw that explosion-”

Mac’s voice cut off, catching in his throat. He swallowed hard, his eyes dulling. 

“You know no one was in that Humvee, right?” Jack reminded him gently. “It was empty man, nobody died.” 

“But if someone had, it would have been my fault, right?” Mac bit back, angrily. 

“What?” Jack didn’t know where that was coming from. Of course he wouldn’t have blamed Mac. It would have been a terrible tragedy, but it wouldn’t have been Mac’s fault. “You weren’t even near the IED, there’s no way you could have stopped it. No one would have blamed you, hoss.” 

“That didn’t stop you before.” Mac said, so quiet Jack almost couldn’t hear. The kid’s good hand was clenched tight, shaking a little. 

Jack froze - what the hell did that mean? 

And then it hit him like a freight train. 

He had said something in a moment of careless anger. It seemed so insignificant at the time, and Mac barely reacted to it in the heat of the moment, so Jack forgot he’d even said it. He felt the blood drain from his face as the words ran through his head again, the implication behind them - what they would have meant to Mac. 

_“I’ve heard people talk about you. You’re supposed to be some bomb wonder kid, huh?”_

_“I think you mean wunderkind, but no, I wouldn’t say that.”_

_“Considering your last training officer just died on your watch, I don’t think I’d say that either.”_

Of all the things to use against Mac that day - his silly hamburger name, or how young he was - the last thing he ever should have thrown back at him was the death of someone he served with. Not only that, but it was the kid’s mentor. He knew enough about what happened to know Mac was there when it happened, when Pena died, in an explosion of all things. It was no wonder why the kid reacted the way he did.

“I’m sorry,” Jack didn’t know what else there was to say. He was horrified with himself and he knew if he could go back in time and take it back he would. But the damage had already been done. Mac had a perfect memory and clearly that accusation cut deep. “I didn’t know.” 

“Didn’t know what,” Mac shot back. “That it might have been a dick move to blame me for something you weren’t even there for, something you knew nothing about? Or that you’d be stuck with me long enough for it to come up again? Sorry to disappoint you but you’re the one who signed up again because you don’t think I can do my job right and need a babysitter. You didn’t need to do that, Jack, I promise I won’t let someone die on my watch again.” 

Jack winced. The hardest part was how defeated Mac sounded. He was clearly angry, and rightfully so, but underneath the anger, the bravado, he really was internalizing that guilt.

“I know you wouldn’t - didn’t.” Jack corrected. “What I meant is I didn’t know _you_ when I said those things. Either way, I should’ve never said something like that but at the time you were just some punk who was messing with my stuff. I used the only thing I knew about you to get under your skin and didn’t even think about what I was really talking about. I know it’s unforgivable but I’m so sorry, man.” 

Mac simply stared at him, his expression blank as he took in Jack’s words. He mulled them over, cradling his wounded hand to his chest. 

“Why did you come back, then?” Mac finally asked. There was no more anger in his voice, even the guilt was gone, it was all replaced with confusion. 

“I came back because you saved my life.” Jack explained. “I came back because when I got on that plane the thought of something happening to you was too much for me, man. Not because you aren’t the best EOD tech I think I’ve ever met, but because anything can happen out here and I realized I need to see you go home more than I want to go home myself.”

Mac sat frozen, speechless. For a second, Jack thought he had said too much but instead Mac’s blue eyes misted over. He looked away, staring out the passenger window again, and cleared his throat. 

“No one’s ever done that before.” Mac said.

For the first time, Jack actually understood something about Mac - he was alone. Jack didn’t know his story yet but he could see how deep that loneliness really went. 

Right then and there, he made a silent promise to Mac. No matter what happened, Jack would always come back. 

The End.


	11. Hallucinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11 - Hallucinations
> 
> Tag to 4x10: Mac has a bad reaction to the DMT and his concussion. Apparently, head injuries and psychedelic drugs don't mix. 
> 
> Characters: Mac, Desi, Riley, Bozer, Matty, Russ  
> Tags: Mac Whump, Head Injury, Pain, Confusion, Losing Consciousness

From the moment he woke up after his DMT-induced trip down memory lane, Mac felt like something was wrong. 

When he first jolted back into wakefulness, his heart monitor lit up like a christmas tree with alarms, there had been no time to recover. He had to help Riley, Desi, and Russ finish the mission which made it easy to ignore the pounding headache screaming for his full attention. 

By the time they got back with Shiva, Mac could barely see straight, his vision blurring and swirling around him. It was like being back in the dream world, everything felt real but not real at the same time. It was blurred - memories, dreams, reality - all of it blended together like wet paint running down a canvas. 

He told himself it was probably just the rest of the drug working its way out of his system, that and the concussion. Psychedelic drugs and head injuries weren’t a good mix, and yet Mac didn’t have the energy left to care. 

He didn’t even care about the incredible weapon sitting on the table in front of him. Even that didn’t feel real. He wanted to reach out and touch it, to convince himself that everything around him wasn’t a mirage, but he was afraid that if he did his hand might simply go straight through it. 

“It’s here for you to dissect, whenever you’re feeling up to it.” Russ said and Mac felt nothing - no spark of excitement or interest. He knew he should care, that he would normally be chomping at the bit to get his hands in the mechanics of the machine itself, but he didn’t want to do any of that. 

All he could think about was the pounding in his head, It felt like his skull was trying to crack in two. Mac leaned against the workbench, his weight heavy on his shaky arms. 

“What a hangover.” He said, his eyes closing involuntarily against the increasing pressure building behind his eyes. “Even my headache has a headache.” 

“I’d hate to get lost inside the mind of Angus MacGyver,” Riley said. 

Mac huffed out a quiet laugh, “Yeah. Me too.” 

“What was it like in there?” Bozer asked, the question easier to ask than to answer.

Everything blurred in front of Mac’s eyes as he slid back into the dream world. 

His mom’s voice, soft and familiar, echoed around him. Her eyes - he saw them every day in the mirror and never knew. She was the comforting presence in his mind, guarding him from the memories that threatened to destroy him. Despite that, Mac never even knew she was there. 

“The itsy-bitsy spider-you should be hiding, he’s looking for you.” 

Coming face to face with an evil version of himself had been trippy even for a trip. It made him feel even more disconnected - was that him or was he him? Mac normally loved math equations but that one was a little too much for his battered brain to handle at the moment. 

“You okay?” Desi asked and Mac had no idea how much time had passed between the questions. Clearly he had taken too long to answer. Mac blinked as the Phoenix lab swam back into focus, his friends worried faces watching him carefully. 

“Yeah.” He sighed, shrugging. “It was fine. It was like a...surreal dream, that’s all.” 

“All right, then.” Russ finally said. “Let’s all go home and get some sleep, shall we? It’s been a long day.” 

Mac could feel his mind trying to faze out again, back into the dream world. He fought against the pull, forcing himself to stay in reality. All he had to do was make it home in one piece. Then he could fall back asleep. Maybe it would actually be restful next time. He hadn’t slept well in so long, he almost didn’t remember what it felt like. 

He almost didn’t think he was going to make it through the whole drive home. Luckily, Desi drove so Mac could lean his head against the passenger side window with his eyes closed. Every pothole sent a spike through his head, every headlight felt like a dagger to the eye, and still the dream world beckoned him back in. 

Mac was grateful that Desi didn’t say anything when they finally arrived back at his house and he disappeared into his dark bedroom. He felt floaty, his hands going numb, and luckily made it to his bed before his legs gave out. He landed solidly on top of the blankets, his soft mattress giving a little under his weight, as his ears started ringing with the faint music from an old record player. Against his will, his eyes fluttered shut. 

The muffled banging of pots and pans in the kitchen woke him. He would have given anything to go back to sleep but he felt compelled to get up. The feeling of wrongness was back, stronger than ever, and it was telling him to go and tell Desi that something wasn’t right. Either he was having a bad reaction to the DMT or the concussion was worse than they thought. No matter what, though, it wasn’t something he could simply brush off this time. 

Mac pushed himself up and staggered into the kitchen. Desi was at the stove, stirring something that already smelled delicious in a giant pot. This time, he made it to the counter before his legs gave out. He caught himself on the counter, his white-knuckle grip on the edge the only thing keeping him upright as his vision greyed around the edges. 

“Desi,” he gasped. Desi’s head whipped around, her eyes widening as she took in Mac’s distress. Lunging forward, she caught his arm as his hands started to slide across the smooth countertop. 

‘Woah, hey, you okay?” She asked. All Mac could do was shake his head when movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. 

The last thing he saw before he hit the ground was himself, standing behind the glass door that connected the living room and the deck. As Mac slid into deep unconsciousness, the other him simply smiled. 

Continued on Day 12 - Who Are You?


	12. Who Are You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12 - Who Are You?
> 
> Tag to 4x10: After Mac collapsed at home, he found himself back in the dream world, confronting the side of himself he wished didn't exist at all. 
> 
> (Set after the events of Day 11 - Hallucinations)
> 
> Characters: Mac, Dark!Mac, Ellen, Matty  
> Tags: Mac Whump, Dream World, Hospital, Skull Fracture

When Mac opened his eyes, he was back in Tesla’s house - or at least the dream version. 

He could smell the cigarette smoke in the air, hear the laughter and old music playing endlessly in the background. For what felt like the tenth time that day, he picked himself off the floor. 

“I don’t need to be here anymore.” Mac sighed, his eyes immediately searching the crowd for his mom, but the only faces he could see were unfamiliar to him. 

“Who says you're here because you need to be?” Mac spun around, relief washing over him when he saw her again.

“What do you mean?” Mac asked. “This was just my mind’s way of remembering the map.” 

“That’s true,” Ellen nodded, her dark blue eyes scanning the room. “But there’s more to it than that; you know that right?”

“No,” Mac frowned. The music skipped, scratched and stilted, but the dancers didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t understand. Nothing makes sense anymore.” 

“This place, it isn’t your world, right?” Ellen asked. “I mean, I know why I’m here, and Tesla, Edison, and Bell were manifestations of your imagination, but who are these people?”

“I don’t know,” Mac was starting to feel like a broken, useless record. “I’ve never seen them before.” 

“Exactly,” Ellen said. “How do you feel when you're here?” 

“Nervous,” Mac said without hesitation. “On edge.”

“It feels like you can’t trust anybody, right?” She asked. “Like there’s something more going on, some big plan you’re not in on?”

“Yeah,” Mac said. It was starting to make sense. 

“This is Codex.” Mac said. 

“Well, technically this is a product of your hippocampus piecing together what you already know about my connection to File 47 with what you so desperately need to know about Codex.” Ellen said, winking. “But yes, in your head, this is Codex.”

“If this is just a dream then I’m sleeping again.” Mac leaned against the nearest wall, even in his dream world he was still tired. 

Ellen reached forward, brushing Mac’s hair back from his forehead. “You’re not sleeping, honey.” 

“The sedative should have been out of my system by now.” Mac said. “Unless I didn’t actually wake up before and my team is still waiting for me.”

“You really did wake up before,” Ellen said. “Everything that happened when you left this place was real.” 

“It wasn’t, though.” Mac said. “It couldn’t have been. I saw something.”

“What did you see?” 

Mac’s eyes flicked away, embarrassed. He didn’t know how to explain that he saw himself, standing outside his house.

“Did you see him?” Ellen asked, her eyes widening in concern.

“I am everywhere, you know.” 

Mac’s head whipped back in her direction so fast he almost got whiplash. He gasped, staggering backwards, when he came face to face with his own reflection.

“Who are you?” He asked as his doppelgänger stalked slowly toward him. “What do you want?”

“Come on, Angus, you’re smarter than that.” The Doppelgänger said. “You’ve already asked those questions.” 

“You’re not me.” Mac shook his head.

“And I’m not you.” Doppelgänger parroted. “If you say so. But I am, right? I’m everything you don’t like about yourself, what you don’t want to admit, so you lock it all away. You don’t want to admit that you think File 47 actually makes sense. You keep saying there has to be a way to save everyone but who have you actually saved? From where I’m standing, it seems like anyone who gets near you ends up dead, because of you, no less.” 

“Nothing you say matters.” Mac growled, hands clenched tight at his side. “You’re not real.”

“I don’t have to be,” Doppelgänger said. “As long as you know that what I’m saying is. This is all coming from you, after all. You’ve always known deep down that your precious team only puts up with you because you’re good at solving short term problems. But you’re useless when it comes to the important stuff. Paper clips and shoe laces can’t really save the world. It’s going to take something a lot bigger to do that - File 47 big.” 

“And then what?” Mac asked. There was no way he actually thought those things but rationally he knew there wasn’t a second presence standing in front of him. Everything around him was a manifestation of his subconscious - it was all coming from him. 

“Then you put those problem solving skills to use and help rebuild society. But you’re going to have to wake up first. You’ve been in here a while now. It’s time you got up and did what you were always meant to do.” 

Before Mac could respond, the room went silent - empty - except for a muffled beeping somewhere far in the distance. 

_“We’re right here, Mac. Come back to us.”_

“You’ve been sleeping a long time,” his mother’s voice whispered. “Go back to them.” 

The ground buckled, a deafening boom crashing over him, sending him to his knees. He reached forward, sweaty hands against wood that cracked beneath his fingertips, under his palms. 

His hands sunk in, like reaching into the depth of the ocean, and something pulled him downward. The pain, like a knife to the side of the head, crashed over him in waves. Mac cried out as everything melted into hues of grey and black. Between the grey, his own face peered back at him. 

“You know what you have to do.” Doppelgänger said before pushing him under. 

As soon as his head hit the ground, his eyes flickered open. Everything was blurry in front of his eyes, too bright. The beeping grew louder and he knew that sound well. The pinch of an IV in the back of his hand, too.

“Hey there, Blondie.” 

Mac shifted, his body feeling slow and disconnected from the rest of him. As soon as he tried to move his head, it felt like the spike was shoved back in. He couldn’t stop the soft groan that escaped. 

“You’re okay.” Mac let his eyes wander until they found Matty sitting by his bed, she was holding his hand gently in hers. “You had us all pretty worried.”

“Wha’happened?” He whispered, his throat and mouth too dry to say it any louder. 

“You collapsed at home. Desi called it in,” Matty squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, Mac, I never should have pushed you after your head injury. It was unnecessarily dangerous and unfair to you.” 

“Had to,” Mac said, shutting his eyes against the blinding fluorescent lights. “We needed to know what I forgot.” 

“Putting you at risk like that almost cost us a lot more than a weapon.” Mac frowned at Matty’s somber expression. 

“What went wrong?” He asked nervously. 

“You had a small, linear skull fracture from the head injury you received on the mission.” Matty explained. “After you collapsed, you had a seizure. You were unconscious for a few days.”

“Only felt like ten minutes,” Mac said. “When can I go home?” 

Matty laughed, shaking her head. “Since you just woke up after a seizure caused by a serious head injury, I’d say let’s give it a few days. And don’t even think about trying to escape. We’ve been taking shifts so you didn’t get any ideas when you finally woke up from your beauty sleep.” 

Mac frowned but didn’t try to argue. He probably couldn't lift his head off the pillow if he tried, let alone put any kind of escape plan into action - not yet at least. He didn’t have to like it, though.

“Don’t worry,” Mac promised, feeling the soft pull of sleep again. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

At least, he wouldn’t until he could open his eyes without feeling like his head was going to explode. The world was ending, there wasn’t a lot of time for rest. Not when they were in the middle of the biggest battle of their lives. 

In terms of Codex, he would think of another way. 

It didn’t matter if File 47 made sense, because it did - theoretically - but that didn’t account for the people who would die because of it. They mattered more than whatever potential benefits File 47 might bring. No, there had to be a better way. He just needed to stop Codex, then they could find another solution. 

He just had to figure out how. 

Even if it meant sacrificing himself. 

The End.


	13. Hidden Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13 - Hidden Injury
> 
> Tag to 2x23: Mac is injured during the mission to find Jonah Walsh and hides it from his father and Jack. 
> 
> Characters: Mac, Jack, James MacGyver, Jonah Walsh  
> Tags: Mac Whump, Blood and Injury, Serious Abandonment Issues, So Much Angst!

“Who is this guy again?” Mac asked as he walked up to the seemingly abandoned warehouse with Jack and Oversight, who was apparently his dad. Mac had to admit he didn’t see that one coming. He couldn’t help but think of all the times he found himself in trouble on a mission and Oversight ordered the team to stand down instead of helping him. His own father was willing to let him go to prison for domestic terrorism. That was a hard pill to swallow. 

“Hopefully someone who can tell us why Walsh is in Mexico.” James said, holding up a finger for them to be quiet as he listened through the door. Mac clenched his jaw, recognizing that move as one he saw many times as a child. When James actually was around, he always seemed too busy for Mac. He was turned away so many times as a kid, eventually he just stopped trying. After a moment, James nodded. He stepped back before lifting his leg and kicking the door in. 

There was only one man inside, dumping a bag of coffee beans into a wooden box. With barely more than a quick glance over his shoulder, the man bolted, running straight for the side door. Jack charged past the MacGyvers, gun raised and ran straight for the suspect, James right behind him. 

Mac stopped, his eyes trailing the man as he dashed to the left once outside and hurried past each window. Mac traced the man’s intended path, finding a clear window a few paces away from the man’s current location, and ran full tilt toward the glass. In the last second, he raised his arms to protect his face from the broken shards and jumped straight through the shallow panes. They shattered from the force of his body weight easily, just as the man ran by. Mac caught him around the chest and used his momentum to send them both crashing to the ground. 

As soon as Mac landed, he rolled, narrowly avoiding a sweep to the legs. It gave the man just enough time to pull a knife and slash out at Mac. As Mac dodged the sharp edge of the blade, he lost his balance and nearly fell face first into the glass-laden dirt. The man lunged forward, stabbing down, and nearly catching Mac in the hand. Mac pushed himself backward, scrambling away from another swipe, and rolled over his shoulder into a standing position. 

Mac had to hand it to his opponent, he wouldn’t give up. He dodged another blow but slid on a slippery shard of glass. The man took that as an opportunity to slash out at Mac again but this time Mac was too off balance to get out of the way. He felt a sharp burn along his ribs, deep into the layers of his skin. Mac sucked in a breath, eyes widening at the sudden, pulling pain, and immediately pushed the man’s arm away. The man rallied quick, jerking his arm above his head and jabbed down at Mac’s upper chest. Luckily, Mac was able to grab onto the man’s arms. He couldn’t help but eye the tip of the blade as it was pushed closer to his skin. 

“Hey, stop! Drop it!” Mac let his eyes flick up from the blade to just beyond the man’s shoulder where Jack was running up to them, his gun immediately pressing between the other man’s shoulder blades. Mac sighed in relief when his opponent let him go and dropped the knife to the ground. Mac staggered back, clutching at his bleeding side, and tried to catch his breath as his father tied the man’s hands together with his own belt, looping it a few extra times for good measure.

“Oh, I’ve seen that trick before.” Jack said, watching the same process he had seen repeated many times from Mac. 

“I like to say I taught my son everything I know.” James said, pulling the belt tighter. Mac couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He wipes the blood staining his fingers on the inside of his jacket, and steps forward. 

“That’d just be another lie, though, wouldn’t it?” Mac threw back easily. There was no way he was going to give his father any credit for what he could do. That wasn’t to say he didn’t learn a few tricks from his father before he left without a word, but not much. The person who really deserved the credit for that was his grandfather, the one who actually raised him. 

“Okay, cocaine cowboy.” Jack said, redirecting them back to the mission. “My good friend here and his very negligent father are going to ask you some questions and I suggest you listen up.” 

The man laughed, shaking his head. James grabbed the man’s collar and jerked him forward. “We’re looking for Jonah Walsh. Where is he?”

“Hey, maybe no hablo ingles.” Jack suggested. James shook his head, glaring sharply. Mac took their distraction as a chance to back away. He gently pulled his jacket to the side and hissed at the sharp bite of pain that spiked across his ribs. There was a tear in his shirt, but the knife must have cut along one of his ribs because it wasn’t too deep. There was some blood soaked into his shirt directly around the tear but mostly he could just feel it running down his skin underneath the material. 

“Oh no, he speaks English.” James reached down and pulled the man’s tied hands up, gripping his little fingers. “Where is Walsh?” 

The man’s eyes flicked down nervously but stayed quiet. Without dropping eye contact, James jerked his little finger backward, the small bone snapping easily. The man grunted, trying to pull his hand away, but James wouldn’t let him. Instead, he grabbed onto his ring finger next. 

Mac let the jacket fall back into place, distracted from his own pain, and caught Jack’s questioning eye. Mac shook his head with a shrug. That wasn’t the way things were done at Phoenix. They didn’t break people’s fingers until they talked. Apparently, if you were Oversight those rules didn’t apply. 

“One down,” James growled. “Nine to go.” 

As soon as James started bending the man’s ring finger back, he cried out, trying to pull his hand away harder now. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll talk!” He gasped. “I talked to him two days ago. He’s heading south.” 

“Well, look who speaks perfect English.” Jack said.

“Try to be more specific?” Mac asked. There was too much south between Mexico City and the border for them to go out on a blind search and Mac really wasn’t in the mood to watch his father break any more fingers. 

“In the mountains.” The man said and Jack huffed out an irritated breath. 

“A lot more specific than that, dumbass.” Jack groused. The man laughed. “What’s so funny? You want to let us in on the little joke, pal?” 

“You’re going to be the joke,” the man smirked. “Pal.”

“Really. How’s that?” Jack asked. 

“When Luis Gomez finds out you’re looking for his partner-”

“Wait,” Mac cut in. “Luis Gomez, the head of the La Ole Cartel?” 

“Walsh is working for a drug cartel?” James asked. “What is he doing with them?”

The man shrugged and James let go of his shirt. “If you don’t know then you’re no use to us.” 

With that, he sent his fist flying into the man’s face, the sound of bone crunching under knuckles echoing around them. Blood immediately gushed from his nose as he staggered backwards and landed with a thud on the hard ground. As James stalked away, Jack stepped closer to Mac. 

“Geez, you sure he’s really your dad and not mine?” 

Mac frowned, unsure of what to make of the whole situation. He hated that he barely knew anything about the man - his own father. Mac didn’t like how short his fuse was, it made it hard to anticipate what he might do next. Instead of answering Jack, Mac followed James, needing answers to questions of his own. Every step sent sparks flashing across his vision as it pulled at the wound in his side. 

“What’s going on,” Mac asked, not willing to accept a non-answer. If they had any chance of success, they all needed to be on the same page. “Who is Walsh to you?” 

“Well, for thirteen years he used to watch my back in the field, kept me safe.” James explained. “Walsh isn’t just some terrorist. He was my former partner, and at one point, my closest friend. Then one day, he turned on me - joined the other side. I’ve been hunting him down ever since and I’m not going to stop until he’s locked up for good.” 

Mac’s eyes went straight to Jack as his father walked away. This wasn’t just another mission, this one was personal. As personal as it got. If their partnership was anything like the one he had with Jack, then this was about family. He couldn’t even imagine a scenario where Jack would betray him like that. It worried him that he didn’t know what they were getting into. 

“So this is like you hunting for me.” Jack said. Mac pulled his jacket tighter against his side, ignoring the pain radiating from the wound like electricity across his skin. 

“Yeah,” Mac agreed. “I think it’s exactly like that.” 

++

Mac sat down heavily in a cafe chair, leaving Jack and his father to check the map they had laid out on the table. He didn’t think his wound was bleeding that much anymore but every single movement pulled on it. It hurt more than he wanted to admit but it wasn’t the time to worry about it. One thing his father did teach him was how to put aside his feelings until the job was done. He did feel guilty about hiding the injury from Jack but admitting he was hurt would mean he had to admit to himself just how much it hurt. If they had any chance of getting through the missions alive, he needed to pretend like nothing was wrong. 

“If the intel from our unconscious friend is correct then this is where we’ll find Walsh.” James said, pointing out a spot on the map just West of Guerrero. “It’s remote, defensible, the perfect place to hide a large scale drug operation.” 

“Little too perfect,” Jack pointed out. “Only one way in and one way out. They’re going to see us coming a mile away on that road.” 

“Who said anything about a road?” 

++ 

It was a little too easy to steal three horses from the ranch a few miles away from the compound. 

Mac’s arms almost gave out as he pulled himself up into the saddle. He leaned forward, cradling his side, absolutely dreading how much that mode of transportation was going to suck. 

He was right. As soon as the horse took its first step, lightning bolts shot up and down his spine and his whole body tensed up. He followed behind the two older men, gasping quietly with every clambering step. It got a little less intense when they found the actual path. 

“So, what do I call you exactly?” Jack asked, riding alongside James. “Oversight? Big Mac? Mac Daddy?”

“Well, since this is an official mission, and I am your boss, how about sir.” 

“Yes sir, copy that.” Jack said, eyes squinting against the bright sunlight. “But just so you know, your son has spent the last fifteen years wondering why you just up and bailed on him. So you might want to clear that up.” 

Mac couldn’t help but smile. Having Jack on his side did make the whole situation a little easier to handle. He was so angry at his dad for leaving, had been for so long he barely remembered a time when he felt differently about the man, and he didn’t know what to make of having him right there in front of him. It didn’t feel like his dad was there, strangely enough. It felt like any stranger that you might have known long ago but have long since forgotten. There was no comfort in his presence, no familiarity. Not like with Jack. 

Of course, James didn’t say anything. Jack frowned before falling back, letting Mac catch up. Mac straightened his posture, hoping Jack wouldn’t see through his thinly veiled disguise. 

“Your dad ain’t too friendly, is he?” Jack asked and Mac couldn’t help but agree. There was nothing even remotely welcoming about him. It was like talking to a brick wall that had a familiar face. “This how he’s always been?”

“I don’t know.” Mac shook his head. “Even when he was around, he wasn’t really around, you know. I never really knew him.”

“That sucks, man.” Jack said, so genuinely it sent a shock of sadness through Mac. 

“I don’t really know what to say to him.” Mac admitted, watching his father in the distance. He had been looking for him for so long. It had been all he could think about for the past year, and now that the man was right there, Mac realized he never even considered what he might say. He imagined he’d have more control over the situation but instead he just felt like a kid again. 

“Well, you’re not the one who has to say anything, hoss.” Jack pointed out. Mac glanced at him questioningly. “He’s the one who left ya high and dry all those years ago. You don’t have to say anything to him until you're ready, okay? And don’t feel guilty about not wanting to, either. This gap you’re feeling between the two of you, that’s on him. He’s the one who should apologize, not you.”

Mac nodded, grateful to hear the words, especially from Jack. It felt good not to be pushed into anything before he was comfortable. Yes, he spent fifteen years wondering where his father went, and the past year actively searching for him, but finding out that his own father didn’t seem happy to see him at all still stung. 

Then Mac realized James wasn’t happy or surprised to see him because he had spent that fifteen years very differently than Mac did. He didn’t have to wonder where Mac was, he knew, and yet he still stayed away from him. He must have known Mac was looking, must have known how desperate his son was to find him, how much Mac was hurting, and yet he kept that distance between them. Did all of that mean nothing to his father? 

After a few miles, Jack finally broke the silence again. 

“This is a weird mission, dude.” He pointed out. “I mean, can you imagine if you had to hunt me down?” 

Mac was grateful for the distraction. He had to fall pretty deep into his own head to escape the pain but with every passing mile it got harder and harder to keep up the ruse that his side didn’t feel like it had been flayed open. 

“I’d catch you in like a day.” Mac brushed the back of his hand against his sweaty forehead. He didn’t feel particularly clammy or feverish, both good signs, but he still felt too hot. 

“A day!” Jack looked a little too amused. “Keep dreaming, pal!” 

“You’d never even see me coming.” 

“Well, let’s just agree to disagree on that one.” Jack said, winking at Mac as they caught up to Oversight. The three fell back into uncomfortable silence. Mac felt torn. Deep down, he wanted to ask the man why - more importantly why he left. But he also needed to know why he stayed away. 

“Walsh used to watch your back in the field?” Mac finally asked. It felt like a safe question. There was no baggage in it, at least for Mac, only intel. Even if his dad didn’t want to talk about anything, Oversight wouldn’t be able to withhold information about the mission. “Does that mean you used to do what I do?” 

“It’s a long story.” James said dismissively. Mac sighed. He thought about giving up, dropping the whole conversation, but if they were ever going to have a chance at a different relationship, the other man couldn’t blow him off every time Mac tried to talk to him. 

“We’ve got nothing but time.” Mac pointed out. That was the only line he was willing to cast out. If his father took the bait, then maybe they could get somewhere. If not, then there was only so much Mac could do. 

“Yes, Walsh was my partner in the field when I was first recruited.” 

“To Phoenix?” Mac asked. 

“Phoenix, DXS, OPI - the name might change but the mission has always been the same.” James said. “We’ve been pairing soldiers and scientists together since the second world war. You didn’t think your partnership was unique did you?”

“We didn’t meet through Phoenix, though.” Mac said.

“And who do you think pulled the strings to pair you together in Afghanistan?” 

“Wait, that was you?” There was no way James had that kind of pull. If he did, what other strings did he pull in Mac’s life? 

“That was me.” Mac didn’t like how smug James sounded about the whole thing, like he was a puppet master controlling Mac’s entire life, even Jack’s to some extent. 

“Hold on,” Jack jumped in, clearly it wasn’t sitting well with him either. “You might have arranged the meeting but our friendship was galvanized through hardship. We did that on our own.” 

Mac was so grateful for Jack in that moment as Jack reclaimed something James was trying to take away from them. They hated each other at first. Without the work they put into their trust and friendship, James’ perfectly sculpted plan never would have worked. There was no way he had control over that, too. 

“That’s true.” James seemed to agree. At least that made Mac feel like he had some semblance of control over his life again. Jack gave him that back, even if it was only a little thing. It was important to him, and Jack. 

“So what happened between you and Walsh?” Jack asked. 

“I wish I knew.” James said. “One day, he disappeared without a word. I found out later that he went into business for himself, choosing money over fighting for peace. He was our best operator, now he’s our biggest threat.” 

“And what about the file Matty has on you? What’s that all about?” 

“I asked her to do that as a kind of job interview,” James explained. “The interrogation, too. I wanted to see what all the hype was about her. After that, she became my handler.” 

“And then you left and never came back.” Mac pointed out, the pain in his side was nothing compared to the pain from that much deeper, much older wound. “Was that your handler’s idea?” 

Mac needed to know how involved Matty was in the whole situation. If she was the one who told James to abandon his son, and then watched Mac suffer through all the failed attempts to find him and never said anything, then that might be too much to forgive. 

“No, that was my idea.” James said, and the dagger that ripped through Mac’s chest because of the admission nearly doubled him over. “The longer I worked, the more enemies I racked up. I knew eventually they would come after my family to try to get to me. Leaving felt like the best way to protect you at the time. I already lost your mother; I wasn’t about to lose you, too.”

Mac tried to understand the logic there. He understood having enemies that would use family against him, he’d experienced that when Murdoc went after Bozer, but that still didn’t make sense. Just because James wasn’t around didn’t mean that Mac didn’t exist anymore. Leaving would have only made him an easier target, unprotected, just like Murdoc said. 

“If that is why you left,” Mac started, trying to give his father the benefit of the doubt. “That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t say goodbye.” 

Instead of answering, James took off down the trail. 

“Wow, your dad really doesn’t like talking about his feelings, huh?” Jack said but Mac shook his head. Yes, that was true, but there was a spotter for the cartel running through the woods this time. James caught up to him easily and took him down with a lasso made from his belt. As soon as he jumped down from his horse, he used the same belt to tie the man up. 

Without another word, he jumped back on and took off up the hill toward the compound, Mac and Jack following close behind. 

When they got close enough, James and Jack easily dismounted from their horses and tied their reins around a tree branch. 

Mac nearly screamed when his feet landed on the ground, his legs practically giving out under him. He checked under his jacket to find his shirt stained red. He didn’t think it was bleeding much anymore but that didn’t stop it from hurting like hell. He could basically ignore it when he wasn’t moving, but when he did move, it suddenly became all he could think about. 

“Dalton, you take out the rest of the perimeter guards,” James ordered, falling easily back into his role as Oversight. “Angus and I are gonna continue to the compound.” 

“Yes sir,” Jack nodded, before disappearing into the treeline. Mac followed James to the fence. After deciding they needed to enter from the roof, the least guarded part of the compound, it only took Mac a minute to figure out how to get them both up there. As they were collecting the parts necessary to make an ascender rig, and waiting for the guards to move on in their perimeter sweep, Mac couldn’t help but ask a question that had been bothering him since they were on the trail. 

“There’s one thing I still don’t understand,” Mac said. “If you left all those years ago to protect me, why did you steer me into a profession where I nearly get killed all the time?”

James actually looked taken aback by that one. It was as if he had never considered that before and Mac wondered if James even noticed how often his own son almost died - how often he got seriously injured? Did any of it register for the other man or was it easy to distance himself because he was never there, he only heard about their missions from their reports? 

The guards finally clearing the area interrupted the answer, but Mac promised himself he wouldn’t stop until he knew the answers to every question he had. 

The ascender rig was a good idea, but Mac didn’t account for how long he’d have to hold on as they made their slow ascent up the side of the building. Because he was hanging from his arms, his body weight dangling below him, there was nothing he could do to stop the agonizing pull on his knife wound. His hands were shaking so bad, he almost didn’t think he was going to be able to hang on the whole time. There was no other option, though. They were already too high. If he fell, he wouldn’t be able to run and he’d get captured, tortured or killed. He forced himself to hang on, a fresh wave of blood cascading down his side. It made him nauseous and as soon as they got to the roof, he had to press his forehead against the ground when everything greyed around the edges. 

“Come on, Angus.” His father’s whisper was loud, irritated at Mac’s slowness, and Mac sighed deeply before pushing himself back into a standing position. He pressed his arm against his side, hoping it would slow the bleeding long enough for him to get through the mission, and followed his father inside. 

++

Once in the compound, they made their way down several sets of marble stairs. At the bottom, the staircase opened into a large room lined with tables covered in coca leaves. 

“Walsh and the cartel must be planning on turning this place into a cocaine production facility.” Mac said, but James didn’t seem so sure. Neither did Mac when his eyes landed on the numerous containers of chemicals. “Oxandrolone?” 

That didn’t make sense. There was no reason to use anabolic steroids in the production of cocaine, or any drug that Mac could think of. Unless they were synthesizing a new drug? Mac’s confusion only grew when he saw a line of gurneys against the wall. Were they involved in human testing of some kind? If so, then that was so much worse than just making drugs. 

“Walsh and the cartel are synthesizing drugs.” James said. It made Mac incredibly uneasy when he heard real fear in his father’s voice. “Just not the one you’re thinking of.” 

James looked around, his eyes landing on a framed, metal door - like an old jail cell. He rushed toward it and Mac followed him, limping more and more as each step seemed to tear at the slash along his ribs. If they didn’t figure out what was going on soon, he wasn’t going to be able to keep up the charade that he was fine for much longer.

Mac forgot all about his own pain when he walked into the next room. The walls bore thousands of scratch marks and bloody handprints. The blood had dripped down in crimson streaks to the floor. Mac’s stomach dropped at the sight. A cold wave of terror washed over him, catching his breath. 

“What the hell is going on here?” His voice was thin, frozen in his throat. His father didn’t seem to notice, heading directly for the bank of computers against the far wall. He sat down on the small stool, inserting a flash drive into the USB port. 

“Is that Riley’s encryption key?” Mac asked as the screen lit up with data. 

“Yes,” James said. “She’s very talented. I wish she had been the one to set up Phoenix’s cyber security system, then maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve been hunting Walsh since the day he betrayed me,” James said, eyes glued to the screens. “I only got my first real lead a year ago when he hacked into Phoenix and stole gigabytes of my research.” 

“He didn’t hack into Phoenix?” Mac shook his head. If that happened, there’s no way they would have been kept in the dark about something so important. 

“He did, you just didn’t know about it.” James said. Mac sighed - or maybe they would. What else were they in the dark about then? “When Murdoc took over Phoenix last year, our security went down. It was only for a second but that was enough time for Walsh to get in and steal whatever he needed.” 

“What did he steal?” Mac asked nervously. There was so much information on their servers that could be used for horrible purposes. The Phoenix was disguised as a think tank but they still functioned as one. The ideas and research that came out of their lab, from their field work, it could destroy the world ten times over if it got in the wrong hands. 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” James clicked open a folder containing a list of files, all labeled with different codewords. Mac didn’t recognize any of them, but James did. He leaned back, hands falling limp at his side. “He’s making KX7.”

“What’s KX7?” Mac asked, judging by how pale his father got at simply mentioning the name, it had to be something really bad. 

“It’s a drug cocktail designed to do for soldiers what performance enhancing drugs did for Russia’s olympic athletes and then some.” James said. Mac frowned in confusion. That wasn’t great but it didn’t sound too bad. There had to be a catch. “KX7 increases strength and muscle response while dulling pain receptors in the brain. It was supposed to save lives by keeping soldiers awake, alert, and able to fight even after grievous injury.”

Mac read through the data. The science was sound but only mentioned the effects in a hypothetical way. There was nothing to suggest that live testing had even happened with the drug. 

“Why have I never heard of this?” Mac asked. James clicked on a video file, the screen changing to the same room they were in. Two scientists worked together to hold down a man who looked like a bodybuilder. The third injected something into his arm. 

“Because this is what happens to the people who use it.” James said as the man stilled. The two men holding his arms backed away. The man jumped up, holding his arms up in surrender, as the third scientist aimed a gun at him and shot him four times in the chest. The man simply looked down at his bleeding body before lunging at his shooter. 

“This is why I never tested it on anyone.” James said. “Some of my research suggested that anyone who used the drug would suffer a massive heart attack within minutes. When I realized how dangerous it would be, I abandoned my work and hid the research, but Walsh knew me too well.”

“He knew you wouldn’t destroy it,” Mac said. “He knew if he poked around on the Phoenix servers long enough he would find it.” 

“Indeed I did.” 

Mac spun around at the new voice as James jumped up from the stool. A tall, broad man with a goatee, flanked by three other men, walked into the room. Something about the man seemed familiar to Mac but he couldn’t place why. 

“And the good news is, I’m getting very close to figuring out how to get rid of all those little kinks.” 

“Jonah.” James said. 

“James MacGyver,” Walsh raised his hands to the side in greeting. “It’s been too long. And is this mini Mac? All grown up and following in his daddy’s footsteps?” 

Walsh walked up to Mac, giving him an amused once over. “You know, you probably don’t remember me, you were just a kid when we met, but something tells me you're going to remember me now.” 

Mac didn’t blink, glaring sharply at the larger man. Walsh snapped his fingers and two of the men came forward. The first started patting James down while the other grabbed onto Mac’s wrist and pulled him closer. Mac hissed when the motion pulled dangerously at his side. He sighed, realizing the injury was about to be found. When the man reached his side, he froze, lifting his hand for everyone to see. 

James froze at the sight of the blood, eyebrows raising in surprise. Mac watched his reaction, the schooled features, unwavering even when faced with his own son’s blood.

“Geesh,” Jonah whistled, pulling Mac’s jacket away from the wound. The whole side of his shirt was completely drenched, collecting in the waistband of his pants. “That looks pretty bad, kid.” 

Mac gasped when Jonah reached forward and poked at the wound. He held up two bloody fingers for James to see. Again, James’ eyes shot to Mac’s, his face paling slightly. 

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” Jonah laughed, wiping the blood off on his jeans. “How long have you been bleeding, kid? Looks like a while. You telling me you didn’t notice your own son was hurt?”

James stayed silent, schooling his features even more to remove every ounce of emotion. 

“You never were father of the year but this really takes the cake.” Jonah said, reaching into Mac’s jacket pocket and taking out his swiss army knife. He reached into James’ jacket as well to find and identical, but older, one. 

“How cute,” Jonah said, holding both of them up. “Like father, like son. You know, I was hoping you might show up. Counting on it, really. I need you to do something for me so I left you all those little breadcrumbs you followed to get here. Got here just in time, too.”

“He wants you to finish the drug.” Mac said. It was so simple. Jonah was the soldier, not the scientist. Jonah smiled, pointing at Mac. 

“The kid got your smarts, Jimmy.” Jonah seemed almost proud. “Like I said before, there’s a few kinks that still need to be worked out.” 

James shook his head, “one hundred percent mortality rate is more than a kink, Jonah. Go ahead, shoot me. I’m not finishing the drug.” 

“You know, normally I’d believe you.” Jonah smirked, stepping forward threateningly. “But not today. You’re going to finish the drug.”

Jonah pulled the gun from his holster and pointed it directly at Mac’s face. “Or I’m going to shoot your son in front of you.” 

Mac’s eyes narrowed as he stared down the barrel of the gun. It was far from the first time he’d been on the wrong side of one, but the same cold dread always ran through him when it happened. 

James stood his ground, not giving an inch. 

Jonah’s eyebrow raised. “Are you really willing to watch your one and only child die over this?” 

Mac couldn’t help but move his attention to his father, watching his response. He knew, deep down, that his father couldn’t agree to something like that. Mac was willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of the mission if it called for that, but something about the hesitation James showed stung. His boss would be able to sacrifice him for the greater good, but could his dad? 

“Wow,” Jonah seemed genuinely surprised. He lowered the gun, stepping closer to Mac. “Honestly kid, I don’t even know what you’re doing here. Do you really think he cares about you, that you’ll patch together the broken pieces of your relationships, and everything will be fine?”

Mac tried not to let the words affect him but Walsh hit the nail right on the head. That’s exactly what he wanted, deep down at least, but the longer the mission went on the more Mac was starting to realize how impossible it might be. 

“He doesn’t care that you're bleeding, I mean even I can see you’re in pain. Your own father left you and now he’s willing to let you die. If you were my kid, I never would have abandoned you. But when the professor here left you behind, he never even mentioned your name again. It was like you didn’t exist.”

Mac couldn’t look Walsh in the eyes anymore. He fought against the rising tide inside him as his childish fears came to life right before his eyes. He always suspected he meant nothing to his father, but the confirmation hurt worse than the knife wound.

“Maybe you just don’t think I’m serious about this,” Jonah said, turning his attention back on James. “I wonder if this will change your mind.” 

Jonah nodded to one of his men who stepped closer to Mac. Jonah nodded again and before Mac could register what was happening, the man drove his fist directly into Mac’s wounded side. Mac grunted, bending forward at the waist, and hugged his arms protectively around himself. When he could pry his eyes open and breathe again, he straightened, not wanting to give Jonah the satisfaction of seeing his pain. 

Jonah looked down at him sadly, eyes betraying his actions. “I hope you know I really don’t want to do this to you, kid.” 

Mac didn’t say anything, not breaking the stare until Jonah did. Jonah frowned at James before nodding again. This time, Mac did cry out when the fist was driven into his side again. Before he could get his breath back, he was hit again. He felt the rib snap as the loud crack reverberated in the large room. Jonah actually flinched in sympathy and James lunged forward. Out of the corner of his eye, Mac saw the man who hit him was wearing brass knuckles. No wonder it hurt worse than a regular punch. 

“No, stop. Stop!” James yelled. Mac dropped to his knees, catching himself on one of his forearms while the other hand clenched against his chest. “I’ll finish the damn drug, Jonah, just stop hurting him.” 

“Good,” Jonah said. “Refuse again and it will be much worse for him next time.”

“Fine,” James growled. “But I’m going to need his help.” 

“Normally, I’d say no, but I don’t think he’s in any shape to help you escape.” Jonah said as the pain started to fade.“You wouldn’t make it a mile before we caught you, and then you’d really have to watch your boy suffer. Understood?” 

“Understood.” James said. Mac grunted when hands grabbed onto his arms and lifted him up. He swayed on his feet, blood rushing from his head, but he didn’t have time to get his bearings before he was thrown into another room, this one set up like a makeshift lab. 

As soon as the hands pushed him inside, he stumbled, landing hard on the stone floor. 

“Hey, easy.” James said, kneeling beside him as the door slammed shut. “You okay?” 

Mac grit his teeth, raising a shaky thumbs up. As soon as James went to check on his injury, Mac pulled away. 

“It’s fine,” he grunted, pushing himself more upright. James merely shook his head, incredulous. 

“This isn't fine, Angus.” James said, pushing his jacket aside and getting a good look at the wound for the first time. “Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?”

“It’s not like we had a lot of time for first aid,” Mac pointed out. “We are on an official mission, after all.” 

“Don’t be sarcastic, Angus.” James said. “I taught you better than that.” 

Mac’s jaw dropped open before he could stop it. “That’s rich coming from the man who left.”

“I was never really gone.” James said, “I was always right there, watching out for you, making sure you were okay.” 

“When was I ever okay?” Mac shook his head, all the anger and hurt he had felt in the past fifteen years - since he was five, really - bubbling up to the surface all at once. He grit his teeth, pushing himself to his feet, despite his father’s protests that he should sit down. No, he wouldn’t let him control one more thing about his life or make excuses to make himself feel better, or more superior. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you, Angus.” James walked to one of the tables and grabbed the cleanest looking raag he could find before handing it to Mac. “And I know you’re hurting right now but just remember, I’m still your father.”

“No, you aren’t.” Mac didn’t want to take the rag but the brass knuckles really did a number on him. Begrudgingly, he took the rag and pressed it to the injury. He hissed sharply as the scratchy material came in contact with his open wound. “Fathers shouldn’t leave their kids to fend for themselves their whole life.”

“I already told you,” Mac could see the mask slipping from his father’s expressionless face. “I didn’t really leave.” 

“You say you were there but actually being there for someone involves more than just being some omniscient presence in the background, quietly pulling the strings to get me where you wanted me to be. You may have been there but I wasn’t part of it. To me, you weren’t there.” 

Mac felt like the dam had broken completely open. Maybe it was the blood loss, the stabbing agony in his chest, or the pain of loneliness and abandonment but their chances of escaping the situation alive were looking slim to none. If they died there, Mac needed his father to know exactly what kind of pain he had caused his son. 

“I wanted to keep you close but I had to protect you.”

“From what?” Mac was sick and tired of the excuses. “People like Walsh? I didn’t cease to exist, you know, they could have gotten to me at any time. You didn’t stop me from being in danger, you just made it so I no longer felt safe. I mean, if you really wanted to protect me, you could have taken me with you. You could have protected me from anywhere.” 

“I’m not saying I did anything right, okay? When I lost your mother, I couldn’t handle it. The pain was so excruciating and you looked just like her. Your mind worked just like hers did. Looking at you, talking to you, it was like she was there. But then I’d have to remember she wasn’t all over again. It was too much.” 

“So it’s my fault, then?”

“Angus-”

“Because I lost her, too.” Mac could feel his eyes misting over as all the grief was ripped open in his heart again. “I was just a little kid and I lost my mom. I needed my dad and you weren’t there.” 

As the last words left Mac’s mouth, he heard his own voice break. His father flinched, as if realizing for the first time that his son was real. 

“Son-” 

Mac’s face crumpled at the word. He had to bite his tongue to keep the real tears at bay. There would be time for those later, when he was alone and could start processing everything. That was, if they made it out alive. None of that was important if they didn’t survive. 

“No,” Mac swallowed back the lump in his throat. “Don’t say anything. They won’t leave us alone in here forever. Eventually, they’re gonna come in to check on our progress and I’m not willing to help you finish making that drug.” 

“I won’t finish it either,” James nodded, his voice softer now. To Mac, it sounded like guilt, but he wasn’t in the best place to help his father deal with that so he ignored it. 

“Good.” Mac said dryly. At least that was something they could agree on. 

“So, how do we escape?” James asked, catching Mac’s arm as he swayed. Mac noticed nervously that it was getting harder to breathe. He knew he was going to go down soon and willed his body not to give in yet. 

“We don’t have to worry about that.” Mac explained, swaying again. James helped him sit in a stool by the lab table. Mac leaned over, flinching every time he had to inhale. “By now...Jack’s probably taken out most of the guards...We just need to give him a signal...so he knows where we are in here.” 

As they looked around, Mac’s eyes landed on the perfect solution. 

“Do you remember...what I did to your shed when I was seven?” Mac asked, pointing toward the chemicals. 

James smiled, collecting what they needed, and gave Mac an amused glance. 

“I’m still not convinced that was an accident.” 

Before long, James had a pretty good fire going around the room. All they had to do was wait for Jack to notice the smoke. However, Mac wasn’t anticipating how painful coughing would be. 

James waited by the door, just in case anyone came in to investigate the fire, but Jack must have been more successful than they thought, and lured everyone out, because they were left alone. Mac tried not to pass out through every ragged cough that caught in his chest. His lung felt like a balloon about to burst and he knew if Jack didn’t get to them quickly the chances of him getting out of that room were growing even slimmer. 

Mac didn’t even have the energy to jump when the wall came crashing in. He looked up through blurry vision to see a red pick-up truck sticking half-way through the wall. 

“Anyone order an Uber?” Jack asked, pieces of the destroyed wall still raining down on the truck. Mac smiled, relief flooding his whole body at the sight of his partner, but the tickle in the back of his throat came back full force and he couldn’t stop the hacking cough that exploded out of him. His chest seared in response and he gasped, hugging his arms tight around himself. 

“Angus, come on!” His dad yelled, running toward the bed of the truck. Mac took a single, stumbling step before his legs gave out under him. He sank to his knees, coughing and choking painfully into his elbow. 

“Mac!” Jack yelled, jumping out of the driver’s seat and sliding to a stop by Mac’s side. “You okay?” 

Mac could only shake his head as he lifted his blood-soaked palm from his side. Jack’s eyes went wide, but Mac noticed immediately that he wasn’t looking at his hand. Mac let his own eyes trail along Jack's eyeline, his heart thudding in his chest when he saw the flecks of blood spattered in the crook of the elbow he had just been coughing into. His eyes flew back to Jack. 

“That’s not good,” he wheezed dangerously before slumping into Jacks’ arms. 

Continued on Day 14 - I Didn’t Mean It


End file.
